


The Haunting of Sam Winchester

by ShesmyChevyPie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Ghosts, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, ghost!Gabe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesmyChevyPie/pseuds/ShesmyChevyPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has just moved for the hundredth millionth time to a place in Michigan no ones ever heard of. Greenwater, Michigan. Honestly, Sam couldn't be happier with the place. His dad promised this would be the last move. Ever. No more moving for the Winchesters, no more switching schools, no more cruddy motel rooms or cramped camp-outs in the back of the Impala. They're actually getting a home. Over the summer Sam becomes infatuated with monster movies and horror novels. This obsession brings him into the interest of the supernatural and paranormal. Oddly this obsession brings him to meet an unusual boy named Gabriel. He's fresh out of high school and still living at his parents place. He's pretty funny and charismatic. He's got a sweet tooth, and a knack for rock and roll music. He can even play guitar. He's a pretty normal kid overall. Whats so unusual about him is that he's a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Make a Monster

Sam was curled up in his seat in the back of the Impala. His arms sat folded on the edge of the open window, his chin resting in the middle of them. He let the summer breeze blow against his face and cool him. The nape of his neck was still sweaty due to his thick, shaggy hair. However, the open window made him feel less sticky and uncomfortable.

He felt crushed against the door thanks to the boxes neatly stacked beside him, they hogged the entire back seat, even squishing up the roof of the car. Most of the boxes were up with Sam, but some of them had been stashed in the trunk. 

Sam hadn't been allowed to see those ones.

Like, his dad didn't exactly _say_ he wasn't allowed to see them, but he did say "Sammy don't touch those. Let Dean handle 'em. Here take these ones." and then he handed Sam another box full of laundry and a bag of the little shampoo bottles they took from hotel rooms. As if Sam wasn't capable of carrying a few boxes full of junk. 

They had the same conversation every time they moved too.

"Whats in them?" Sam would ask as John tried to shuffle him away.

"Junk." his father would huff, and he wouldn't meet Sams eyes. Then he would either change the topic, or pretend to become distracted by something.

The secrecy was annoying more than anything.

The Winchesters didn't have very many possessions, it made it easier to move. They had clothes of course, and sheets and pillows, some gadgets and basic stuff really. But not furniture or anything huge like that.

Sam remembered that at one time they did own a mini fridge. He thinks that his dad brought it home for Deans birthday one year maybe. Sam just remembered that in the summer they crammed it full of those icy pops--those one popsicles that come by the bundle and everyone has a different name of them. Anyway, they would stock up on those. Every time either of them had scrounged up enough money to go to a Walmart and buy the bundle, they would store them in the mini fridge and it was one of Sams favorite childhood summer memories.

It was late. He wasn't really sure how late, but the expressway was dark except for the bright lights dancing across the road. They twinkled in his green eyes brighter than the stars did.

The soft rock station was on. He knew Dean had turned in on on purpose because it always made Sam fall asleep. 

Sam hadn't slept in a few days.

He hated moving. They were always moving. The Winchesters have probably lived in half the states by now, and that's only counting the ones Sam can remember. They have been moving around ever since Dean was four. Sam can't remember ever completing a full year of school at one school. His family is always gone by at least one semester. After years of moving from town to town, and from school to school, Sam had learned not to become attached to people. He never really learned how to make friends. Neither did his brother.

But his dad promised that this would be the last. This one they were staying until Sam graduated high school, and then he could do whatever, and live where ever the hell he wanted.

They were coming from Colorado this time. Last time it had been Nevada. The time before that was California, and before that it was Idaho, before that it was Virginia, and the list goes on and on and on. It would probably be easier for Sam to list the states he hasn't lived in yet. Millions of towns and cities were listed in the back of Sams mind, along with tons of blurred faces and lost names of the people who lived there. More than a lifetimes worth of shady motel rooms, and questionably stained mattresses that hurt his back. He wouldn't be living like that any more.

No more sharing a bed with Dean, and no more having to deal with his cold feet or hogging the pillows. No more "Sammy, quit tossin' around I'm tryin' to sleep here!" No more pressing the pillow over his ears to block out his dads snoring. No more drifting. No more smelly motels. No more getting dinner out of the vending machines. No more living out of the Impala. 

They were going to have a real house. A real home. They were going to stay put for once, and they were going to seem like a real family.

Sam still hated moving, however. He hated how small the Impala felt with all their crap in it. He hated when his sweaty skin stuck to the leather seats. He hated the way his legs cramped up from sitting in one place for so long, and he hated listening to his brothers best of mullet rock cassette collection over and over again. He also hated the feeling he got from the fact that he was going to be the new kid. Again.

But this time would be different. He was staying this time. He would be here longer than just one semester, and he would make friends this time. 

Hopefully.

Sams eyes were growing heavy now. Every time his eyelids managed to droop closed they burned with the desire for sleep. He fought it for a while, determined to prove to Dean that the soft rock station didn't work on him anymore.Maybe it worked when he was four...okay damn it, it still worked like a charm. Sam just couldn't help it. He was so tired, and the words of REO Speedwagon were lulling him to sleep better than any nursery lullaby.

He finally gave up, nuzzling into his arms and sighing into sleep just as a blue sign came into view.

WELCOME TO MICHIGAN.

XxX

 It was a one story house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was tan, with light gray shutters and a dark purple door. The roof was a dark gray. The porch was pure white and matched the garage door. 

205 Lawrence Dr. Greenwater, Michigan.

This was home.

The Winchesters had neighbors. They had a backyard and a driveway and a sidewalk. They even had a tree in the front yard that was full of bright green leaves. The school was within walking distance, and the sounds of an ice cream truck jingle was playing in the distance.

This was heaven.

Walking into the house took you into the living room where soft carpet tickled Sams bare feet. A couch that had been left behind by the previous owners sat in the middle of the living room. It was a faded red, and looked like it had some battle scars from a house cat. To the kitty corner of that was his dads room, and inside that was the master bathroom. Down the hall from the living room, right across from each other, were Sam and Deans rooms. Their bathroom shared a wall with the master bathroom.

Their mattresses sat on the floor with their sheets and pillows and blankets made on top. 

To the left of the living room was the kitchen. It came with a fridge and counters and a stove. It was a small kitchen, but this was a house of three guys. John was barely home, and when he ate it was usually something he could take with him in the car. The only person who ever really cooked was Dean, so this kitchen was perfect for the Winchesters. 

It was perfect for Sam.

He was practically sprinting back and forth between the Impala and the house. He wanted to get everything unpacked and settled as soon as possible. He wanted to feel like he really lived here. 

When all the boxes were finally inside they were all shoved to the side because no one felt much like unpacking. The hot August air was taking its toll on the Winchesters. The T.V. was set up, but they wouldn't have cable until Monday. John dug up an old VCR that had managed to ride along on all the moves. He blew off the dust and plugged it into the T.V.

"We've got some movies somewhere around here," he said to himself, shifting through the boxes, "I know we do."

Dean collapsed on the couch, his pale skin blushing red from so much contact with the sun. He moved his forearm away from his eyes slightly to look at his little brother.

"How do you feel about ordering a pizza?"

Sams stomach happily agreed.

They spent that night with all the windows open in the living room. Dean and John sat on the couch while Sam laid on the carpet on his stomach, the pizza box near him. The only light came from the television as it played: Invasion of the Body Snatchers. 

By the end of the flick, his dad and Dean had both announced that they were heading off to bed. 

"Don't eat all that pizza, Sam." said John.

"I'll put it away." he said.

Throughout the night Sam sat with his nose to the screen, watching flick after flick of his fathers old collection of old school and B-rated horror movies on tape. His heart was thumping with the thought of why he hadn't seen any of these before. A whole new world was opening in front of Sams eyes. 

He stayed awake until at least two in the morning. He fell asleep curled up on the carpet, after telling himself he would only rest his eyes during the credits of Creature from the Black Lagoon before putting in another movie. However, he didn't wake back up. Not even when the screen cut to static, and the salt and pepper snow buzzed on the glass. 

XxX

"Is he still watching that?" John said from the kitchen.

It was Monday morning. A typical August summer day in Michigan. The sun was hot, and shining through the windows of the Winchester's new home. It baked the sidewalks and the front porch, and had the neighbor kids breaking out their sprinklers and water guns. 

Sam, however, was still sitting in the same spot as he was on Saturday night.

"It's been two days," said Dean, "I don't think I've seen him move to even go to the bathroom."

The two of them observed Sam for a moment, watching the back of his head sit scarily still.

"Sam," John said sternly, as though he were trying to reach his son from another world, "the cable guy is coming today, so you better find something else to do other than sit on your ass and watch that."

"Huh?" Sam said, his eyes glued to the screen. Night of the Living Dead was on, and it was seriously getting good.

"How are you not having nightmares from watching that?" said Dean, "you used to wet the bed just after someone mentioned a clown."

"Did not," that snapped Sam out of his trance, and he finally turned his eyes away from the movie to glare at his brother.

"You did too."

"Did not, jerk, you're lying."

"I'm not lying. Who do you think has been sharing a bed with you for sixteen years, bitch."

"It was probably you who wet the bed and you're just blaming it on me--"

"What the hell would I wet the bed about?"

"All right, enough!" John boomed, sending his sons into silence. "Sam, all you've done since we got here is watch horror movies."

"Yeah, your nerd brain is probably turned into goop by now. The teachers aren't gonna believe you're an honor student." snorted Dean.

Sam stuck his tongue out at him.

"Hey," John snapped a finger at him, "both of you need to get out of this house and get some fresh air before you rip each others heads off, or I'll rip them off for you."

He crossed the room and switched off the T.V., resulting in a pained expression from Sam and a whiny, "Can't I--?"

John brushed him off. "Dean, take your brother into town. I don't care where you go; the library, the park, even if you just drive around for two hours, just get out. Get Sam away from this T.V."

Sam frowned grumpily, getting to his feet just as Dean stood up off the kitchen chair.

The brothers grumbled to each other as they slipped on their shoes and headed outside to the Impala. 

As soon as Dean turned on the engine, rock music exploded from the speakers. It would have ruptured Sams eardrums if he hadn't grown so used to it over the years.

Dean backed out of the driveway, tossing his arm over the seat as he did so. Sam just stared moodily out the window. He was a little thankful for the fresh air, but he had wanted to watch Frankenstein next. He had just noticed it in the box--along with the Wolfman and the original Dracula. They were the greats after all!

"Don't be such a bitch." said Dean.

"I'm not." said Sam.

He wasn't looking at his brother, but he could sense the eye roll.

"Sam, there is literary a grove in the carpet now thanks to your butt."

Sam huffed, "Can I just go to the library?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I'll drive around for a while I guess."

They didn't really speak much on the way into town. The blistering heat was cooking their heads and making them both easily agitated. Not to mention the Winchester genes weren't a big help. 

Greenwater was a small town. Home to maybe one to two hundred people. There was a Mom and Pop shop on every corner, and two dinky diners were the old people would go to eat before church on Sundays. There a nice park with a big sledding hill, and apparently was the place to go to on the fourth of July. And of course, there was the lake from how the town got its name. Greenwater Lake. It was behind the park, hidden behind some foliage and trees, but there was a road you could take to get there. Sam hadn't gotten the chance to go down there and swim yet, but according to his dad he had heard from the locals that it was the most popular place to swim in the summer, and ice skate in the winter. 

Dean pulled up in front of the library, leaning over a little after Sam got out. "I'll text you when I get back, okay?"

"Yeah. Do you have any idea when Dad wants us back?"

Dean shrugged, "No clue. We can wing it."

"Okay. Cool." and with a turn of the heel Sam was trotting up the white steps, the sounds of Blue Oyster Cult fading away behind him.

The first thing he did when he got there was go up to the front desk and ask the old lady running it if she knew where any horror novels would be. She directed him to the bookshelves down the hall, and he thanked her before heading there.

He ran the pad of his finger along the spines as he drifted down the aisle, looking for the grim letters of the authors to spell out Stephan King. When he finally reached them, his heart thumped excitedly, immediately tearing the first one he saw off the shelf and flipping it around to read the back.

It was called _Carrie._

It didn't sound all that interesting, but he flipped open the cover to read the first few pages anyway. 

He became lost once he started reading. The first few pages turning into the first chapter.

"You can sit down and read that you know." A voice said.

Sam jumped with a start, shutting the book closed like he was reading something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh-what? What did you say? I'm sorry."

"No, no," the boy smiled kindly at him. He was pushing a shopping cart full of books nearly stacked on the inside, "I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. I just said there's places to sit if you want to read that here."

He eyes were like frigging blue light saber beams, and they never left Sams face. His hair looked like he had just woken up from a nap. His hair wasn't the only thing untidy about him. His wrinkled shirt was half tucked into his pants, and one sleeve was rolled up to his elbow while the other one was sagging its way down to his wrist. His shoes were scuffed, and the laces frayed. His belt was too big for him, hatched on the last hook, and hanging sloppily to the side. Everything about this kid screamed; I need a break.  
  


This kid had some staring issues. Thats why Sam was looking everywhere else besides his face, but it was proving to be difficult when he was standing right in front of him.

"Oh," said Sam, "I was just reading the first few pages...I must have gotten sucked into the story I guess." He laughed awkwardly.

The boy bent over slightly to look at the cover. "Stephan King fan? _Carrie_ 's pretty good. Have you read it before?"

"No, and, um, I don't know if I really count myself as a fan. I haven't read any of his books yet."

The boys mouth dropped open, "Really?"

"I watched _Pet Cemetery_ once."

"Oh, well, you've got to read it." The boy pulled it out of is spot without looking and placed it into Sams hands, "I also recommend _The Shining._ Everybody loves _The Shining_. You gotta watch the movie when you're done reading it. Oh, and _Misery_ too! _Cujo_ is a classic. You should read _The Body_ too, it's not scary, but its still a great read. Oh, and if you enjoy Stephan King, once you're finished you should try some Caver Edlund. He's wonderful."

As he listed them all off he pulled the books out and added them to the pile in Sams arms. Sam wanted to stop him, to tell him this was probably enough reading for him for a while, but the guy looked so excited he couldn't find it in his heart to call him out. 

Until he pulled out a book that had the cover of a grimy city street, and a sewer grate with a green clawed hand poking out of it. The blood red letters read:  _IT_.

"And this one," he said, "if you love scary clown--"

"No, no, no!" Sam squealed, trying to wave his hand out from under the stash of literature in his arms, "I'm afra-I don't-I try to stay away from clowns...."

"Oh." He put it back in it's slot. "I'm sorry. You're probably annoyed with me."

"No, no, I'm not, really. You're a good helper actually! I'll be set until school starts. I'm really excited to read them."

The kids face split into a wide grin after he said that.

"Well...you're welcome. I'm Castiel by the way. You can call me Cas if you'd like to."

"Sam Winchester." Sam shifted the books over to one hand in order to greet Castiel. "You must spend a lot of time at the library."

"You could say that." He replied, "I work here. I've been here all summer, and during school I come here on the weekends."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he dipped his head sheepishly, then changed the subject, "So where are you from? I've never seen you around school before."

"I just moved here from Colorado."

Castiel whistled lowly. "Colorado? Geesh. What'd you come to Michigan for?"

"My dad's work."

"Oh. What grade are you in?"

"I'll be a junior."

"I'm a senior."

"Lucky." Sam huffed, making Cas laugh and roll his shoulder.

"I guess. Well, hey, I better get back to work." He walked around back to his cart, wrapping his hands around the handle, and began to push it past Sam as he talked, "if you have any questions about books, or town, or school, you can find me."

"Okay, thanks, Castiel."

"You're welcome. See you around, Sam."

Sam watched him walk to the end of the aisle and then round the corner to disappear into another aisle. He then took his pile of books and sat down at a table to read. If he knew his brother well, and he knew he did, Dean wasn't due back anytime soon. '

He reopened _Carrie_ and picked up where he left off.

It was an hour or so later when he got the text from Dean. He was slightly disappointed. He didn't want to leave now, he was so in the zone of reading he didn't want to interrupt it. There was also the fact that the library was beautifully and wonderfully air conditioned, and the outside world was not.

But Dean had suggested going to grab slushies from the gas station, and he didn't want to pass that up. 

He packed up his things and went back to the front desk where the lady gave him a library card and he was able to check out his books.

As he scribbled his name on the back of the card, he saw out of the corner of his eye a donation jar. It was a printed out flyer taped to a bucket more like. It had a boys face on it-he had to be a high school-er-and the words Please Donate! But it didn't say why or what was wrong with the kid. Sam figured it must had been a local thing. That everyone around here already knew who this kid was and what had happened to him so no one felt the need to put his name out there. 

Sam didn't think much of it. 

He tucked his books under his arm and went outside to the Impala. Passer-by gave Dean looks for having his music up so high, but is brother wasn't paying attention to them at all. 

Sam hopped inside. "Hey."

"Hey," said Dean, "how was the library?"

"It was cool," said Sam, "I got some books to take home."

Home.

That felt good to say.

Dean shook his head. "You're such a nerd." But then a second later asked, "What ones did you get?"

" _Carrie, The Shining, Misery, Cujo, Pet Cemetery_ and--"

"Uh-Sam, aren't those all by Stephan King?"

"Yeah."

"The horror writer?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam, should me and Dad--"

"Dad and I." he corrected.

"Shut up--should Dad and I be concerned about your new, uh, obsession with this stuff?"

"Why would you?" Sam frowned, "Whats wrong with it? I just like it, I'm not gonna be a serial killer or anything. You marathon Hell Hazers all the time."

"Okay," Dean said slowly, trying to think of something to argue with that, "But-Sammy, you weren't always into this stuff."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "So? People discover new things they like all the time. Whats wrong with that? I tried something new and I liked it."

Dean couldn't think of anything to argue with that, and Sam knew he won. 

"Okay," said Dean, "Okay. It's cool, I guess. You're right. You've always been nerdy about something, so I guess this is just the next thing."

Sam just rolled his eyes and turned up the music for his brother. He then sat back in the seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard, and plunging his nose back into  _Carrie._

 

 

 


	2. The Brain Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watched the houses flicker by, looking silent and still. All the houses on their block looked so simple and normal looking. That was what Sam liked about it so much. They were all so horribly plain that it made him glad to know that he was living inside one of them. It meant that he was average. He was actually going to be normal now.
> 
> However, there was one house that stood out from the rest.

The rest of the summer flew by like it was the turn of a page.

Sam was too busy reading and watching his movies to realize that his summer was drawing to a close, and the next thing he knew it was Labor Day, and tomorrow was the first day of school.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean shouted at him in the morning.

Sam groaned in response, rolling over onto _Misery_ , which he had stayed up to finish the night before.

"C'mon, hurry up and get ready."

Sam climbed out of bed, popping out all the kinks in his back and shoulders. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor took some getting used to. But Sam had slept in a lot of places in his lifetime, and this was not the worst of it. He wasn't going to complain.

He got dressed and brushed his teeth quickly in the bathroom. Dean was making breakfast in the kitchen; scrambled eggs and toast.

The crackling from the stove and the smell of home cooked breakfast flowed through the house and wrapped around Sams hearts like a warm hug.

It really felt like a home now. 

He felt normal now.

He sat down at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice as his brother finished preparing breakfast.

Sam liked it better when it was just the two of them. No matter how often he and Dean tended to fight, he enjoyed his company overall. Dean was his best and only friend if he had to be completely honest. Spending sixteen years of life criss-crossing the country and moving from school to school every other month, it wasn't like Sam had time to make friends with anyone else. The only constant people that were involved in Sams life were Dean and his father. His dad was hardly ever around in the first place, so really the only constant thing he had was his big brother.

That was just fine with Sam.

After breakfast Sam and Dean went out to the Impala and Metallica greeted them as soon as the car started. Dean was singing along and bobbing his head all the way down the block.

Sam shook his head at him and stared out the window.

He watched the houses flicker by, looking silent and still. All the houses on their block looked so simple and normal looking. That was what Sam liked about it so much. They were all so horribly plain that it made him glad to know that he was living inside one of them. It meant that he was average. He was actually going to be normal now.

However, there was one house that stood out from the rest.

This house was not plain, average, or boring. It stood out like a sore thumb, making Sam feel uneasy whenever he looked at it.

It sat on the corner of the street, right on the end. It was a bit bigger than the others, and it was obvious that the people who lived there had been fairly wealthy. It had been white, but hadn't been taken care of in a while so it was getting grimy. The shutters were bright red, and the picket fence surrounding the yard to keep the neighbors out was a handsome amber brown. It wasn't the beauty of the house that made it stand out though. It was the creepy oak tree in the trashed yard. 

It was bent out like an old man who had to use a walker to get around and the branches were like thick black bal pythons, with spindly twigs reaching towards the people who passed on the sidewalk. 

The abnormality of the house made Sam want to look away from it, but the haunting vibe he got from it reminded him of the movies he had spent the remainder of summer watching, and that made him partly intrigued.

The mixed feelings he had towards this house made him turn away and look at the road.

As ridiculous as it sounded, he felt like someone had seen him staring.

They arrived at the school in no time-much to Sams dismay. He took a long shaky breath, staring up at the building with students who had been together since kindergarten were swarming around it.

"Hey," Said Dean, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "you've done this a million times. You'll be okay. You always are, right?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "the first day is always the worst though."

"I know. Might as well get it over with."

Sam looked over to his brother beaming a comforting smile. He tried to return it, but it was difficult to do that when he was feeling so tired and had been dreading this moment since they moved here. 

"I'll see you at five, okay?" said Dean, as Sam ducked out of the car, "I'll can bring dinner home tonight if you want."

"Okay." said Sam.

He readjusted the strap on his backpack, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk as girls walked past, giving the Impala annoyed looks for playing such loud music.

Sam tried to hide himself in his sweatshirt while Dean gave him a thumbs up.

"Have a good day, Sammy!"

Sam gave him a little wave over his shoulder as he trotted up the stairs to the front doors.

Dean was worse than a soccer mom sometimes.

Sam hurried off to find his locker, struggling with the com a few times before finally getting it and putting his lunch inside. He then walked down the busy hallway with his schedule in front of his face, his eyes darting back and forth between the paper and the numbers outside the classrooms.

A few kids managed to bump into him a few times, but he ignored their glares and their sneers to their friends.

The chatter from the swarm was drowned out as soon as Sam stepped inside his honers English class and shut the door behind him. No one was in the room yet. Not even the teacher.

Written on the white board was; WELCOME BACK -Mr. Shurley.

Sam walked to the far corner of the room and sat down at the desk, setting his bag at his feet.

The ticking of the clock was loud, yet hypnotic. It was sending Sam back to sleep.

He wasn't sure if he was only half asleep when the bell rang, or if he had actually dozed off, but when the chime broke through the air it sent him jumping out of his skin.

Only a few other people were in the room at the time, and they all ducked their heads towards their desks in giggles. Sam slinked down under the seat to hide himself as the rest of the class came in. The teacher wasn't far behind. 

"Good morning, class." He said. He placed his coffee mug on his desk and his bag on his chair before heading to the center of the room. 

"Good morning, Mr. Shurley." A few of the more awake students sang.

He turned around to face them with a kind smile. His hands folded behind his back. "From what I've heard," he said, "we've got a new student here with us this year. Umm..." he peered over at a paper laying on his desk, "Sam Winchester."

Sam slowly raised his hand, the eyes of the others all landing on him at once, watching him, studying him. Trying to figure out what kind of person he was just by a look. 

"Why don't you come up here and tell us about yourself, Sam?" The teacher asked, smiling warmly.

Sam didn't really have a choice. He hated talking about himself to the class, mostly because he'd just be leaving soon anyway if this had been any other time. This time was permanent though, so it was different. It mattered what he said here, because for the next two years he'd be seeing these kids faces every weekday. There was no "we'll be leaving in a month" excuse anymore. 

He walked up next to Mr. Shurley and said, "I'm Sam Winchester and I'm from Colorado."

Whispers started to break out just like they always did. Sam still wanted to hide himself back inside his sweatshirt.

"How did you end up here? In Greenwater, Michigan of all places?" asked Mr. Shurley.

"My dads work."

"And where does he work?"

This was the question Sam always dreaded. It was always bound to be asked, but Sam never had an answer.

The honest to God truth was that he didn't know where his father worked. Every time he asked John he would change the subject and go mumbling off, just like with the weird boxes in the back of the Impala. After a while of asking and begging and pleading to be told the truth, John got frustrated and angry with him.

"We're not talking about it now!" He had said before storming out the door.

Sam gave up asking his dad after that.

When Sam was a little kid and his teachers asked him where his dad worked, it was okay to say "I dunno." and give a cute little shrug and look up at them with his big green eyes. They would laugh and say, "thats all right, Sammy, you can sit down." But as he got older "I don't know" wasn't an answer. 

"You don't know where your dad works?" One kid had scoffed in a third grade classroom somewhere in North Dakota. Everyone had hidden their mouths behind their hands, as though Sam wouldn't be able to know they were giggling if they did so.

That was when he started lying about where his dad worked.

In Colorado he was a journalist. In Nevada he was a consultant. In California he was a musician. In Idaho he was a photographer. In Virginia he was a fisherman.   

 But every once in a while still worked on Dean. Dean knew, but he never had given Sam a straight answer, until the night before when he had finally caved and said, "He's a mechanic." of course Sam didn't believe him. John wasn't a friggen mechanic, mechanics don't move their family's all over the country every other month. When Sam called his brother out, Dean just said, "Look, if I can't tell you everything now, because if I did you'd hate me and not go to school tomorrow. All I'm telling you is that he's a mechanic now."

So that's all Sam had to say today.

"He's a mechanic."

More whispers. Some hushed laughter.

"Interesting." said Mr. Shurley, dipping his head in that way to make Sam think he was actually interested, "anything else you want to tell us?"

Sam just gave his new teacher a look to tell him he really didn't want to tell them anything else, rolling his shoulder along with it. 

"Well," he said, "does anyone have any questions?"

A boy raised his hand.

"Yes, Gordon."

"Did your mom feed you Miracle Grow, cause Jesus, you're tall."

Half the crowd blew up in laughter, while the other half turned to give Gordon dirty looks.

"Mr. Walker, that is incredibly rude," said Mr. Shurley, glaring at him, "the first day of school and you're already picking on the new kid. Thats got to be a new record. Proud of yourself?"

Gordon just gave him a sly smile, shrugging.

"You can sit down now, Sam."

Without another word, Sam went back to his seat, doing his best to keep himself from being noticed.

He wasn't always so tall, he had finally sprouted over the summer and was even taller than Dean. He had to admit that being as tall as he was was much better than being the short one. Yet, he was still treated like a baby though he no longer looked like one. The time he didn't like being tall was when people like Gordon made comments like that. It was annoying more than anything honestly.

First hour passed with Gordon turning to look at Sam every few minutes. Sam caught him every time, and would give him one of his bitch faces until he went back to stare at the board. Sam tried to keep his mind off it, but something about Gordon was unnerving, and he didn't like it. 

The rest of the day passed with ease. He didn't see Gordons face in any other classes so far, and he managed to lay low until lunch.

He wondered into the lunch room, clutching his brown paper bag in his fist. He scanned around in search of an empty seat or table where he could sit by himself, but instead his eyes were drawn to someone waving him down.

"Sam!"

 _Do I know this guy?_ He thought, hesitantly inching forward to the lunch table. A puzzled frown remaining on his face. 

When he got closer he saw the light saber blue eyes and his brain sparked.

"Hi, Castiel." He smiled, sliding into an open seat next to him.

"These are my friends," Cas gestured over to the boy and girl sitting at the table also, "Meg and Balthazar."

They all said hello to each other.

"Where'd you meet this guy, Cas?" Meg asked, picking apart her lunch.

"The library," he answered, "How did you like those Stephan King books by the way?"

"Oh, I loved them!" said Sam, feeling his heart jump, "I stayed up to finish _Misery_ last night. I really did like _The Shining_ though."

Balthazar then did his impression of Danny saying red rum, wiggling his finger in the air. They all laughed at him.

Sam actually felt like he belonged to a group of people for a moment.

"Sam's from Colorado, right?" Cas turned to him.

"Yep. Moved here in August."

"How're you liking Greenwater?" Asked Balthazar around his hamburger.

"I hope the smell hasn't gotten to you yet." said Meg, "the freshmeat don't believe in showers or deodorant yet."

Sam chuckled, "It's all right. Theres this guy though-Gordon-I don't remember his last name. He was a real asshat to me this morning. You probably don't know him cause he's in my grade--"

"Gordon Walker?" Balthazar winced, "Oh, we all know Gordon Walker."

"You're not wrong about him being an asshat, kid." said Meg.

"Really?" said Sam. "You know him?"

Meg made her eyes go round, "Ohhhh, yeah, kiddo. Total douche. But he gets all A's and B's and is the linebacker for the football team, so he never gets in any serious trouble. Sorry you have to deal with that."

"What has he done to you guys?"

"He's just a dick," said Balthazar, "listen, Sam, if I were you I'd kick his ass to put him in place--"

"Balthazar," Castiel rolled his eyes, "Sam's new here. He's not going to fight some kid he's only known for an hour. Sam, just ignore Gordon and he'll get bored. It's what everyone else does."

Sam just nodded, biting into his sandwich. He wasn't all that worried about Gordon, he hadn't really done much to mess with him. Yet.

"So, Cassie," said Balthazar in a completely different tone, "how's your cousin doing?"

Castiel was in the middle of taking a sip of his water when Balthazar spoke. He took a moment to drink and swallow. It seemed like he was trying to delay the reply. 

"He's fine." He deadpanned.

"When did you last see him?" asked Meg.

"Yesterday. We went to see him before heading to the family party. The doctors all say he's fine, but nothings really happened. Good or bad."

"Must be boring to be his doctor." said Meg, resting her cheek on her knuckles, holding herself up on the table. 

"Mmm..." Castiel hummed, his eyes not looking up from the table.

"Has his parents--" started Balthazar.

"No."

The table went quiet, and Sam was only getting more and more confused. He half wanted to open his mouth and ask who they were talking about and why Cas was getting so upset about it, but the other half of him told him that Castiel wasn't really his friend. This was only the second time they had talked. Sam shouldn't intrude on his personal life. 

Before Sam could ask anything anyway, the subject was changed again. Castiel brought up seeing a movie with his sister and how much they liked it. Meg and Balthazar hadn't seen it yet, so Castiel went on to talk about what happened and what it was about while Sam listened.

XxX

After lunch Sam had gym class. He wasn't really looking forward to gym, but it wasn't like they really did much on the first day.

He walked in to see the other students branching off in their own groups with their own friends. Sam shuffled past them to lean against the cold cement walls until their teacher called them all in to announce class was starting. 

He stared at the clock on the wall, doing the math in his head to count down when he would get to go home.

"Winchester!"

A heavy weight fell into his stomach.

He jerked his head over to the voice to see Gordon walking towards him, being flanked by some of his friends. Sam had seen the others in some of his other hours, but he didn't know their names yet.

Sam threw him another bitch face over his shoulder before turning away and pretending to pay attention to the gym teacher. 

"Hey!" Gordon said again, "I was talking to you, Winchester. You know, I didn't really like how Mr. Shurley called me out today in class."

"Maybe you should think about what you say then." Sam snapped.

"Maybe you shouldn't be such a pussy."

Sam glared at him, but didn't say anything more. Cas had said just to ignore him. Sam was just Gordons new toy and he was going to have to tough it out until he got bored with him.

"Hey," Gordon barked, taking a sidestep to get into Sams line of vision, "I said I'm talking to you."

"I don't want to talk to you." said Sam.

"What?" Gordon's stance turned to stone, as though Sam had just threatened him.

"Walker!" the gym teacher, Mrs. Mills suddenly barked, "pay attention! Winchester you should be over here too, come on, all of you."

Sam was relieved. If he could remain to stay as far away from Gordon for the rest of the day he would be just fine, he didn't want to get into some stupid fight on his first day here. That might be something Dean would have done, but Sam wanted to be as invisible as possible, getting as much attention as he was from Gordon, that was proving to be difficult already.

Mrs. Mills began to go over the general rules and topics just like all the other teachers had done today. Sam stood off to the side, detaching himself from the rest of the group. He didn't really care much for gym class, but he didn't completely hate it. He hasn't managed to get one credit in it yet, so in order to graduate he had to take it. He would much rather do it sooner than later.

While Mrs. Mills went over the rules everyone already knew, Sam zoned out, looking to the clock on the wall and calculating in his head again exactly how long it was until he could go home. 

By the end of the period, Sam was ready to take a nap. He was already half asleep standing up, and he hardly noticed when everyone started to pack up to leave. Mrs. Mills reminded them all again to not forget their gym clothes the next day, as the cliques began to form in the centers of the room. Sam stood off by himself again. 

Gordon Walker, however, wanted to continue their conversation from before.

"Hey," he shoved Sams shoulder hard, making him stumble slightly. "You've gotta lot of balls, Winchester. Just 'cause you're big doesn't mean you should act so high and mighty."

"Take a hint." said Sam, glaring.

Gordons friend-Azazel, Sam thought was his name-stepped forward. His eyes were odd. Creepy even. Sam wasn't sure if it was just the lighting, but he could have sworn those eyes had glinted bright yellow.

"You better watch it, newbie," he said in a purr-like voice that only make Sams skin crawl even more, "you're digging yourself a grave."

Sam just rolled his shoulder, trying to brush off the uneasiness he was getting from Azazel, and turned away.

The bell rang, making the students rush out at once. Sam tried to escape, but not before Gordon was able to grab him and hiss in his ear, "You better hope I don't see you after school."

The threat was enough to strike a jolt into Sams heart, but he quickly pushed it aside to throw a bitch face over his shoulder at the two before racing down the hallway to his fifth hour. Maybe as long as Gordon thought he wasn't afraid of him he wouldn't try anything. Sam stared out the window of his government class to keep his mind off it.

Creative Writing was his last class of the day. It was back at Mr. Shurleys room and he sat at the same desk he did this morning. He was glad to end his school days with this class, because he enjoyed it the most. At every school he's been to he took Creative Writing if they offered it. The teachers were all different and taught differently, so he felt like he was pretty experienced in writing because he had so many different perspectives and opinions. Not to mention he's been writing ever since he can remember. He was excited to start this class. He wanted to try writing like Stephan King.

Finally the last bell rang and Sam hurried off to leave the building. He had to walk himself home after school because Dean and his dad were both working now. Dean would be home before John would be. John sometimes didn't get home till ten o'clock. Sometimes Sam wouldn't even seen his father in the evenings. He could go weeks without seeing his father once. That's how it used to be anyway. The past few weeks they've lived here it hasn't been that bad. John would come home late, but Sam always saw him before bed.

Sam started to walk home.

He was nearly off the school grounds when he was ambushed.

The next thing he knew his arms were twisted and held back behind him, he was squirming against the grip of his attacker to get free.

He didn't have to look to know that it was Gordon and Azazel. The hole in his stomach gave him answer enough.

Azazel was the one holding him, and now dragging him over to the corner of the building so no one could see them. Gordon and a few others were waiting there.

Gordon hit Sam in the stomach first, and then announced to his other friends-there was three others with him-that they could join in now. They did this until Sam was hunched over from the pain, holding back the tears in his eyes so he wouldn't be sobbing. Gordon then had Azazel toss him onto the sidewalk, where Sam swore he had cracked his head open from the amount of pain shooting through his skull. He curled up on the warm concrete, trying to catch his breath.

Gordon gave him a hard kick to the ribs, sending Sam to sputter out a wet cough. He was holding back every part of him to keep from crying in front of all these people he didn't know. He even bit his tongue to keep the tears from coming.

Gordon bent down towards his face, his eyes hard and mean, "I tried to worn you."

He, Azazel, and the others then all laughed. Making small talk with each other on the way out.

Sam waited until the sounds of their footsteps were no longer echoing around the corner to shakily get to his feet.

He nursed his stomach as he walked, holding onto himself as though he were to fall a part if he let go. 

He felt a warm trickle running down the side of his face, and perfect red dots splattered the shoulder of his sweatshirt. He brought up his wrist to rub at the cut. It stung slightly at his touch.

He was thankful that Dean wouldn't be home until later. He had time to clean himself up until his dad and brother came home.

His backpack felt like it weighted ten times heavier as he sluggishly carried himself home. He let the tears come now. Every shuffle of his footsteps was a shoot of pain right to his gut, and every choked sob made his chest bruise. 

He walked past the weird house. The one with the oak tree. He had the horrible feeling of being watched again as he passed under the spindly, hand-like branches. He didn't want some stranger seeing him cry like this, and a bruising and bloody mess as he pathetically walked home. So he tried to hurry away, as fast as his legs would allow him to.

He remembered later that Dean had told him no one lived in that house anymore.

But Sam swore he had seen a curtain move out of the corner of his eye.

Someone was definitely watching him.

 

 

 


	3. The Old Dark House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't you love scary stories? This is a good one."

Everyday for the last few weeks of September, Sam had been tormented on his walks home by Gordon and Azazel. They didn't beat him up--well, usually they didn't beat him up if it was just the two of them--but they sure as hell annoyed him.

They mostly just yelled curse words and insults at him. They didn't always follow him home, usually they'd get bored and leave after a while of not getting any reactions out of Sam. 

In gym class he was their target for humiliation. They'd constantly kick, throw, and hit, numerous balls, birdies, whatever at him whenever there was an opportunity. 

Sam hadn't really managed to make anymore friends besides Castiel, Balthazar, and Meg. He was thankful for them, because he could at least vent to them about Gordon and Azazel without fearing they may rip their lungs out like Dean would.

"I'm telling you, Sam," said Balthazar one day, "just give him a good ass kicking. You're a giant for crying out loud! You could take them!"

"I don't want to make things worse," said Sam, "what good will it do anyway?"

"Well, you'd be doing the whole school a favor thats for sure." said Meg.

"I tried to ignore him," Sam told Cas with complete honesty, "I really did--hes just so-so-ugh, he's so infuriating!"

Cas smiled kindly at him, "I know. It is really hard to ignore him when he keeps getting into your face. Maybe you should tell someone he's bullying you?"

"And then what?" snorted Balthazar, "They're not gonna suspend the linebacker of the football team. If anything they'll have the two of them sit and," he brought up his hands to make air quotes, "'talk it out', and then Gordon might get a slap on the wrist and they'll let him go like that."

"Gordon will go back to his ways," sighed Meg, "and Sammy here will go back to kissing the sidewalk."

"It's a corrupted system I tell you." said Balthazar.

"Not to mention you'll be labeled as the kid who tattled on Gordon Walker." added Meg, as Balthazar nodded his head.

"You two are so pessimistic," Castiel rolled his eyes, "Sam, I could give you rides home from school you know."

"But you live on the other side of town, I don't want to make you do that."

Sam pushed his food around on his tray, starring glumly down at it. Today the cafeteria had offered nachos, and the meat was very questionable. It was a deep, dark brown color, and had bits of yellow and pink hidden inside it. Sam stuck to just eating his apple instead.

"Besides," he continued, "they're not beating me up anymore. They're just annoying."

Castiel looked disappointed, and he turned to his friends with concern. They all shared he same expression, but Balthazar and Meg didn't speak.

"Okay," said Castiel, "if you say so. But if you ever do want a ride--"

"I know," said Sam, "thanks, Cas."

But now, Sam was really wishing that he had taken up Castiels offer.

He was walking home with Gordon and Azazel flanking his sides. They were going on and on about some haunted house that they go by everyday. Sam was trying to ignore them by admiring the fallen leaves scattering the road.

"You read those horror novels all the time, right?" said Gordon.

"Sure he does," Azazel answered, "I see him with a new one every week. You'll love this story, Sammy. It's a real one."

"Yeah, a right in this town too! Right on this street!"

"Can you guess which one it is?" Azazel was purring in his ear, making Sams skin turn to goose flesh, yet Sam still didn't allow himself to turn to them.

"Don't you love scary stories? This is a good one." smirked Gordon.

"Here it is!" Azazel suddenly pointed to something over Sams head, "Right there! We walk by it everyday!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam growled, finally turning to look to the house next to them.

"This house is haunted," said Gordon, "haven't you heard?"

They were standing in front of the white house with bright red shutters. The one with the bent oak tree that gave Sam an uncomfortable feeling. The one he had always been interested in and afraid of at the same time. He always wondered what kind of story this house had, and now he was possibly going to get one.

The boys had been throwing him a line, and Sam was unconsciously taking the bait. The mention of a haunting had his blood pumping and his brain scratching for more information. They had him hooked now, all they needed to do was start reeling. 

"What do you mean its haunted?" said Sam, trying to pretend he wasn't interested.

He turned his head to look up at the house, the feeling of being watched still present. Like it was everyday he walked by. 

"You're an honor student," said Gordon, "you tell us what it means."

Azazel snickered loudly. 

Sam glared. "What makes it haunted?"

"Well," Gordon swaggered to the fence, leaning his hand on it and acting like it was the bravest thing he could ever do, "the family who lived here before moved out in a hurry."

"They just up and left one night. When everyone else was sleeping." said Azazel. 

"What's so scary about that?" said Sam.

Gordon held up his other hand to keep him from interrupting, "Just listen, Sammy. Anyway, they left in the middle of the night and left half their stuff here. Including their son."

"He got sick. Real sick. They thought they could handle it, I mean look at their house, they were one of the richest families in town, but the bills kept coming and eventually they couldn't pay them," said Azazel, "so they left him to die in this house."

"Thats bull." Sam frowned.

"Is not," Gordon exclaimed, "it happened only last year! We remember it! Right, Az?"

Azazel dipped his head, "All over the news for a week."

Sam let the story register in his brain for a moment, thinking about it backwards and forwards until thinking of something else to say.

"But how do you know its haunted?"

Azazel and Gordon looked to each other. Their eyes turning solemn. 

"Some kids went inside once," said Gordon slowly, as if he knew them personally, "over the summer they did. All night they were trapped in there, and they saw shit no one believed."

"One girls hair turned white she was so scared." said Azazel.

"That doesn't happen," Sam retorted, "you're just trying to scare me as one of your stupid jokes. I'm done being your toy, so why don't you leave me alone."

Sam turned on his heel to begin walking back home when Azazel grabbed him by the arm and spun him back around.

"If you're so certain it's not haunted why don't you go in?"

His green eyes scanned the empty gray house. He hadn't really gotten the chance to study the house up close before now. The uneasy feeling it gave him always made him glue his eyes to the side walk until he made it past. Now that he was up close he could see that the house wasn't in as much pristine condition as he had thought. He saw the watered down red shutters, some just barely hanging onto their hinges. The screen door was ripped and due to the autumn wind it was flapping slightly, banging against the side of the house; its squeaking immediately followed by loud smacks. The lawn was overgrown and was attacking the sun kissed front porch, licking the faded wood with its yellowing green tips. The branches of the oak tree sprawled out and clawed outside toward the three boys on the leaf covered sidewalk.

"If you go inside," said Gordon, stepping away from the fence now, "we'll leave you alone."

Sam threw him another bitch face, as though it would catch lie, but Gordon seemed to be being completely honest.

"Go inside. Prove we're wrong. We'll leave you alone." Gordon stuck out his hand for Sam to take, but he merely stared at the sketchy lines on his palm.

"You swear?" Sam said slowly.

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Gordon smiled wickedly, holding up his other hand to show he wasn't crossing his fingers.

"Fine." Sam shook his hand and walked away, feeling like he had just made a deal with the devil.

Sam walked up to the gate, but hesitated when the feeling of being watched grew stronger. Sam could feel a presence just by placing a hand on the gate. How had Gordon not felt it before? It was so strong and crippling, it made Sam want to throw up.

"Whats the matter?" said Azazel, "are you scared?"

Sam took a shaky breath, trying not to make his voice wobble, "No, I'm not I just--never mind. I'm going."

He was acting ridiculous. Their story wasn't even scary. It was obvious that they had made it up, and it shouldn't even scare Sam compared to the stuff he's been reading. 

He wasn't scared.

He wasn't.

Sam puffed out his chest and opened the gate. The yard was covered with leaves, it was almost impossible to make out the brick pathway that lead up to the porch. 

Behind him he could hear Azazel and Gordon whispering and giggling, and he desperately wished for a moment that the house would be locked so he wouldn't have to go inside. That presence was getting stronger by the step. Sam was about to admit that he _was_ scared--but he didn't have an explanation for it.

He got up to the porch and the screen door. He held it aside so it wouldn't hit into him when the wind blew it, and he slowly reached his hand out to touch the golden door knob. His heart was hammering so hard in his ears it was blocking out every other sound around him. It was like the world had stood still to all watch him open this door.

The knob twisted in his hand, numbingly cold against his palm.

The door popped open.

He hadn't even pressed against it.

Sam swallowed hard, pinching his nails into his hand as he looked into the darkness of this strange house. It was horribly quiet.

"Go on!" Gordon shouted from the sidewalk.

"We're waiting!" Chimed Azazel.

Sam thought about Dean. He closed his eyes and thought about how brave he was. How Dean was always protecting him. Babying him. Dean was constantly two steps behind him every time Sam let out any sign of distress. Sam told himself he was just as brave. He didn't need any protecting anymore, he can take care of himself for the most part. Sam was sixteen now. He didn't need his big brother looking after him. And he sure as Hell didn't need to be afraid of some crusty old house. 

He strode inside the house with all the confidence he could muster and let the darkness swallow him up.

The only light came from the sun that shined in dully through the thin curtains. It was horribly stuffy; there wasn't any oxygen, only dust. 

Sam swatted the particles away and coughed, looking around the giant house. 

A handsome marble staircase twisted up to the second floor, a dusty chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were still portraits on on the walls here and there. Sam couldn't tell what of though, they could have been pictures of the family cat for all he knew. 

Sam wandered over to the middle of the room. He felt this heaviness on his heart, a twisting in his stomach, like something bad happened here. 

He told himself that Gordon and Azazel made everything up to freak him out, there's no vengeful spirits in this house; there's no such thing. They only lived in his Stephan King novels and on the T.V. screen. They weren't actually real. 

But Sam thought he had seen a dark shadow out of the corner of his eye. He spun around to see nothing but some leftover crusty furniture and dust.

"Gordon are you in here?" He shouted, taking a step backwards. "If you're trying to scare me it's not going to work!"

Sam's eyes darted all around the room, his senses in overdrive, waiting for Gordon and Azazel to jump out and grab him. He thought that maybe they had snuck into the back door when he wasn't paying attention. 

There was a sudden crash from upstairs, like a vase had broken. Sam snapped his head up towards the sound, staring at the ceiling, waiting to hear another crash, or hear Gordon laugh.

Silence.

Sam took another step back and his heart jumped into his throat when there was a crunch under his shoe. He looked down and slowly lifted his foot, expecting to find bones or some other kind of remains. Instead he saw something shiny, glinting in the dull sunlight.

He slowly bent down and scooped up the trinket in his hand, letting the chain dangle down his finger tips. It was a silver chain necklace; it was a bit dusty but other than that it looked good as new. **  
**

Sam studied the necklace that rested in his palm. It didn't look like anything special, the pendant was a rounded triangle, and as Sam moved his thumb over it it felt like something was engraved in it. It was too dark to tell what though.

Sam heard another noise and jerked his head towards it. He stood up quickly and shoved the necklace fell back to the floor with a quiet chime.

"Walker." He said sternly.

Silence.

"A-Azazel?" Sam began to whimper, stepping towards the front door. The hat rack to his left suddenly fell over and Sam jumped a little. He then realized how ridiculous he was acting and chuckled, shaking his head. "All right, all right, you guys got me!" He called out into the house. "Ha, ha, very funny. I'm leaving now. I did what you wanted and I'm going home."

But as Sam reached the door he saw that Gordon and Azazel were already outside. In fact, they were still standing on the sidewalk, they looked like they hadn't moved at all. 

All the air rushed out of Sam's lungs as he saw the two there, looking at the house and kicking the leaves impatiently.

Sam let out a shaky breath, feeling numb as he noticed the white puff of air floating from his mouth. The house was suddenly freezing and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Goosebumps crawled up his arms, legs, and back.

He could feel someone behind him.

The feeling was unlike anything else. The presence he felt was at its strongest point now. It was identical to the feeling of when you're falling in a dream, except in this dream Sam wasn't waking up. He was just falling.

He slowly turned to look over his shoulder, then pivoted all the way around.

A stained white bed sheet was standing behind him. It had been carelessly thrown over whoever was underneath it. It shouldn't have been as long as it was, whoever was under it was pretty short. If someone who was average height under it their hands and feet would have been sticking out, but this one looked like a child's Halloween costume.

He tore the sheet off to reveal a person standing underneath. He was wearing dark torn jeans and an army jacket that was rolled up to his elbows. A Hell Hazers t-shirt was underneath. Bracelets dangled from his wrists, ones with beads, ones with string, and one that was leather with spikes sticking out of it. He had some earrings too, three on the right side, and two on the left. Only the first one on the right ear was a small golden hoop, the rest were tiny silver ones. His shoes were high top purple converse with ratty laces. His hair was slicked back and curled just around his ears and the nape of his neck. It was a light brown/blonde color. He wasn't very tall, he was shorter than average height that's for sure--but Sam didn't really have time to think about that.

How had this kid gotten inside?

The guy leaned forward, a wide, devilish grin playing across his face. His nose was inches away from Sams.

"Boo." he whispered.

Sam booked it.

He nearly fell off the porch from how fast he was running. His backpack thumped side to side as he went, his books and binders beating against him.

At the sight of him, Azazel and Gordon began hooting with laughter, but Sam didn't stop. He hardly even knew they were there. The only sound he could hear was the laughter that rang above theirs. The laughter belonging to the boy standing in the house.

That was the laughter that followed him all the way home.

 


	4. The Invisible Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and squinted at the sun. The writer in him was trying to take note of every detail of this house to incorporate into his story later, while another part of him was still telling him to book it home while he still could, and another part of him was still wondering what the hell Cas' story was and what it had to do with this house.

He slammed his back against the front door, struggling to stand because his legs felt like pudding. His knees wobbled. His stomach churned. His temples throbbed.

_What exactly just happened?_

Sam tried to register it all as he caught his breath. The emptiness of the house echoed around him, not letting him forget that he was home alone. 

With his heart still drumming in his chest, he walked off slowly to his bedroom. Every creak and click the house made was a jolt to Sams nerves, sending his gut plummeting to his feet each time.

When he reached the safety of his bedroom, he hid under the covers with his books and cellphone. He tried to steady his breathing, but it soon got too hot under there.

Sam peeled back the covers to poke his head out, and look around his empty room. The silence of the house ringing in his ears. 

 _That kid came out of nowhere_ , he thought, _he really came out of nowhere..._

Maybe all the horror novels and the monster movies were getting to him. of course they were. They were messing with his head. He was freaking out over nothing. These monsters only exist in stories. There's no way that that kid was a--

His phone started buzzing and Sam nearly jumped right off the mattress.

Scrambling for his phone he saw it was Dean, and answered it immediately. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sammy, I'm gonna be home a little later tonight. Rufus cut his hand and has to get--"

"Dean, Dean, please come home, please?"

"What why?" Dean instantly switched on his overprotective big brother mode. "What happened?"

"I--I just--" Sam swallowed, trying to think quickly up something that didn't sound like a six year old being paranoid. "I just--I'm not feeling good."

"Is it the flu?"

"I don't know." Sams tongue felt heavy in his mouth, "can't you just have someone else take over?"

"Sammy I can't. I'm sorry. I'll be home later I promise. There's leftovers in the fridge and food in the cupboard. You're a tough kid you can take care of yourself for a bit can't you?"

"Yeah...."

There was a bit of noise in the background. Someone yelled something, and someone else yelled back.

"Look, Sam, I really gotta go now. Feel better, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

Dean hung up.

Left alone in this empty house, Sam was forced to listen to his own thoughts. He didn't allow himself to be scared. Nothing scary had happened back there. That kid was most likely a friend of Azazel and Gordons and they had all planned this out before in order to get under Sams skin. Yeah. That was it. 

_But what about--?_

The falling feeling and the cold air were all in his head. There had to be an explanation--he just wasn't sure what it was...

_But the feeling--_

It was just nerves. The house made him uneasy but it was just a house. There was nothing to be afraid of. Sam was just being ridiculous. The stories were getting to him. Ever since Dean told him about that house being abandoned Sam needed a reason for why it was giving him that uneasy feeling. It only made sense; he had been over his head with Stephan King and other movies for the past month. He was just so in the way of thinking like a horror writer he was starting to begin to think like his life actually was a monster movie.

He almost had to laugh at himself.

He had nothing to be afraid of. 

It was like a Boo Radley sort of situation. Someone making up stories about something they don't really understand. That house was just a house, and if Sam was afraid of some stupid house then what kind of person did that make him? A wimp thats what.

Sam was still a little shaken, but he was able to climb out of bed and leave the safety of his bedroom. 

He had to start his homework for Creative Writing. Their assignment was to write a short story, and Sam was thinking that he had the perfect inspiration for it.

XxX

"Sam, you've been writing in that journal all lunch," said Meg, "what're you writing in there thats more important than your three best friends?"

"You're my only friends," Sam tapped his pencil on the side of his mouth.

"Not the point." She said.

"I'm writing something for my creative writing class. We have to write a short story, and I just can't stop writing it."

"What kind of a story is it?" Asked Cas, a smile growing on his lips, "A scary one?"

"You bet." Sam returned the smile.

"Can we read it?" asked Balthazar.

Sam closed the journal and started pulling it closer to his chest, suddenly insecure. "Maybe when it's done...."

"Well, what's it about then?" 

Sam worried on his lip for a moment, debating on telling his friends the whole truth about the background of this story.

"Well, you know that house at the end of Rosa Avenue? Yesterday when I was walking home Gordon and Azazel told me this crazy story about it to try and scare me, but their story was so stupid I thought I'd give the house a better story to go with it, you know? Make it something actually scary." 

Cas had a strange look on his face, and Meg and Balthazar were staring at him with wide eyes. As though they were waiting for his head to explode or something.

"Are you talking about that big white house?" He finally asked, "The one with red shutters? And the tree in the front yard?"

"Yeah. It's right down my street. I walk by it everyday, it's always kinda creeped me out in a way, you know? Gordon and Azazel were trying to tell me it was haunted and they told me if I went inside they'd leave me alone--"

"Did you?"  
"What?"  
"Did you go inside?"

Cas was staring at him with his fricking laser eyes. They could have pierced right through Sam the way he was staring at him. It made Sam want to tell Castiel whatever it was Cas wanted to hear from him.

"No-no," he lied, "I didn't. I told them they were stupid and went home."

Castiel continued to stare, as though trying to catch the lie. But he seemed to accept that Sam was telling the truth and sat back up normally. His voice was different though.

"You shouldn't go in that house, Sam. People will probably tell you lots of things about that house, but you shouldn't ever go inside."

"I won't, Cas," Sam promised, wishing he could take back everything he just said. He wasn't sure what had upset Cas, but he wanted to redo this all again to get it right. "But--why?"

" _Why?_ " Cas snapped a glare at him, "Because it's _wrong_ , Sam. You shouldn't go breaking and entering into someones house, even if it's abandoned. Does no one in this town have anything better to do besides spread rumors and--"

" _Castiel,_ " Balthazar reached across the table to touch his arm gently, "Cassie, he doesn't know."

Castiels face softened, but he pulled his arm away from Balthazars touch. He stood up from his chair and grabbed his tray.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said, "I have to go. Good luck on that story. I'm sure you'll get an A." 

Sam twisted in his chair to watch him place his tray on top of the garbage bin and disappear into a sea of people in the hallway. He turned back to Meg and Balthazar.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked softly.

"Oh, no, kiddo," said Meg, "Castiel is just...he's just sensitive. You didn't do anything wrong."

"What about the house--"

"Don't-" Balthazar cut him off, "we...we shouldn't get into it without Cassie here."

"It's not our story to tell, kid."

"You guys are scaring me," said Sam, "Is Cas alright?"

"Cas is fine," said Balthazar, "we promise. He should just be the one to tell you his story, not us."

"Capiche, sweet-cheeks?" said Meg.

Sam nodded slowly, still feeling guilty for whatever it was made Castiel up and leave their lunch table. 

"You should still write your story," said Balthazar, "I'm excited to read it."

"Yeah, yeah," said Meg, hitting his shoulder playfully, "get on that! Cas'll love to hear it too."

"Okay," said Sam, lowering his journal and his pencil to the table, "it's pretty mediocre though...nothing like Stephan King."

"You gotta start somewhere, right?" shrugged Balthazar.

Sam sat staring down at his sloppy handwriting and crappy doodles of a house with a full moon glowing behind it. Childish ghosts that wouldn't have even scared Casper looped and floated around his words. He started drawing another one at the bottom corner of the paper. He didn't feel much like writing right now. The words just weren't coming to him anymore. He had hit a block in the road. 

He wanted to know what had set Cas off. He wanted to know what about this house had made him so upset.

What was this story?

XxX

Sam avoided Gordon and his friends all he could in gym class by sticking around a girl named Jo Harvelle. She was pretty scrappy for a skinny little blonde girl, and had come up to Sam and asked if he would like to play basketball with her. Gordon wouldn't dare come around her for some reason, so Sam was happy to play with her. She was a lot better at it than he was. 

"You know," she panted, cradling the ball on her hip, "you're really bad at this."

"Thanks." Sam flicked sweat off his brow.

"I'm hardly even breaking a sweat playin' with you. We should play together all the time. Hey, wanna be gym partners?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"Nah." She smirked at him as Mrs. Mills blew the whistle to signal that it was time for them to head to the locker rooms. Jo walked with him. 

"So, your the kid from Colorado right?"

Sam nodded.

"And your daddy is a mechanic?"

Sam nodded again.

"That's cool...so, you mind tellin' me why you let Gordon pick on such a Sasquatch like yourself?"

Sam sighed hard out of his nose, "It's...complicated."

"Complicated?" She snorted, "You could shove him and he'd go flying through the wall! You're giving him the ego boost he doesn't need, Sam."

"I just don't like to 'cause trouble." 

"Well," she said, "you've picked the wrong gym partner then. I'm _all_ about trouble, Winchester."

"Is that why Gordon is afraid of you?" he asked.

They paused outside the locker rooms, and Jo started laughing.

"You could say that," she cackled, "I beat him up freshman year and he hasn't talked to me since. So, hey, as long as your with me kid, I guess he won't bother you."

"I'm hoping." 

Jo laughed again and punched him playfully in the arm. "I like you, Winchester. You're a fun kid."

She then ran off to the girls locker rooms, and Sam parted to the boys.

The scene in the Carrie movie where they show the girls locker room seems to elegant. There's soft music playing and the girls seem to be acting nice to each other--of course up to the point when they're throwing tampons at Carrie but that's not the point--the point is, if the girls locker room was classical music, warm showers, sweet perfume and fluffy towels, than the boys locker room was heavy metal music, ice cold water being dumped over your head, month old Gatorade, and crusty socks that were shrinking into themselves from their own smell. 

Sam usually kept to himself in the far corner of the locker room where no one else tended to cluster. He had his own space and he liked it that way. He was away from Gordon and his idiot friends.

Except for today, Gordon thought he'd come join Sam. 

He straddled the bench while Azazel and the others stood behind him. Sam assumed their job was supposed to look intimidating.

"What do you want, Gordon." Sam said without looking at him. He was busy drying his hair.

"Nothing really. Az and I just wanted to see how you were holding up from that horrifying experience yesterday."

The others cackled behind him.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the concern," he barked, "but I'm fine. It was a stupid trick on your part. Anyone would have gotten scared if you have someone jump out at you."

Gordon had been grinning wickedly, and even chuckling, but his face suddenly fell. "What are you talking about? No one jumped out at you."

"Yes they did. You had one of your friends hide in the house. They jumped out and scared me and I ran home. I could have done the same thing and you would have gone off running too, so I don't know why you're acting so impressed. I went inside, and you promised to leave me alone. So why don't you stick to your end of the deal, Walker and--"

"Sam," Gordon said, "we didn't have anyone hide in that house."

Sam looked over his shoulder at them after pulling on his t-shirt. Gordon looked like he had turned slightly pale, and Azazel's yellow eyes were as round as dinner plates. Sams heart was starting to thud in his chest, but he didn't allow himself to get scared.

"What are you talking about? Someone jumped out at me, they were wearing a bed sheet..."

Gordon stood up off the bench, "Sam, I swear I'm not messing with you. We didn't have anyone go inside to scare you."

"Then...who...?"

The bell rang, making them all jump out of their skins. Gordons crew all scrambled to leave the locker room while Sam hurriedly packed his stuff away. Gordon was still standing there, blank faced. Sam was going to walk past him and just go to class, but he grabbed him by the arm before he could go. 

"Sam, I swear I didn't have anyone go in there."

"I don't know if I should believe you." said Sam, though his heart was jumping into his throat. "Didn't you see them? I was standing right in the doorway, and they should have been right behind me."

"I don't know who you saw, but Az and I were watching the whole time. We didn't see anybody. We watched you the whole time. There wasn't anybody behind you."

XxX

Sam walked home alone for the first time in weeks. 

If it had been a day before, he wouldn't have minded it. But now it was too quiet. He was left with his own thoughts, and the closer he got to the house the tighter his chest felt. 

The breeze brushed against his reddening cheeks, and blew his hair over his eyes. The crunch of the fallen leaves under his shoes was too loud. And the uneasiness was practically making him dizzy, especially once the house came into view. 

The next thing he knew he was standing underneath the oak tree, and was gazing up at the house. The screen door wasn't flapping open and close today. It rested quietly in its place. Only the grass rustled in the wind today, and occasionally a broken shutter squeaked when there was a particularly strong gust of wind.

Sam wasn't sure how long he was standing there, he wasn't even sure why he was standing there in the first place. He just wanted to see what would happen. His heart was pounding, begging him to keep moving, warning him that something bad could happen. But his legs stayed glued to the sidewalk. His brain was thinking logically, telling himself that just because Azazel and Gordon didn't see anyone didn't mean that this house was haunted. There had to be a logical explanation for all this.

_But he had been standing right behind you, how could they not have seen him?_

Sam shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and squinted at the sun. The writer in him was trying to take note of every detail of this house to incorporate into his story later, while another part of him was still telling him to book it home while he still could, and another part of him was still wondering what the hell Cas' story was and what it had to do with this house.

This stupid house was becoming a bigger part of his life than he had originally planned. 

Then he saw it.

A flicker in the right hand window on the second story. He nearly snapped his neck whipping around to look at it.

The curtain moved. 

He could see a flesh colored hand pulling it back, and a face poking out from behind it, and Sams heart stopped.

It was the face of the kid yesterday. A shit eating grin plastered on his face. He brought up his other hand and waved-fricking. Waved.

Sam had never ran home faster in his entire life, and he had never been more happy to see the Impala parked in the driveway.

He ripped open the front door and darted for Deans bedroom. On a normal day he wouldn't think twice about knocking--but this was _not_ a normal day.

Luckily, Dean was just reading the comic books he pretended weren't geeky.

When Sam opened the door Dean was about to yell at him for making such a racket, but then saw the look on his baby brothers face and got to his feet at once. 

"Hey, hey, Sammy," he said, "wheres the fire, huh?"

"There's-there's-" he was gaping for breath like a fish flopping in a boat, "there's a--Dean--"

"Okay, calm down, dude," Dean took him by the arms and made him sit down on his bed, "relax before you give yourself an asthma attack."

Sam settled down and caught his breath, "I saw a guy. In that house down the street-the creepy one. There's a guy in that house and I think he's been watching me."

 _"What._ " Dean's eyes could've turned mother-bear-black. 

"I saw a guy in the window. He was standing there and I think he's been watching me because every time I walk by I just have this feeling-and-and I've seen the curtains move before but I've never seen--Dean I think that house is haunted."

"Haunted?" Dean got to his feet, "Sounds more like some creepy hobo pervert. I'm calling the cops of this guy. Did you see him yesterday too? Is that why you were acting all weird?"

"No! I mean--yeah-kinda....?"

"I'm calling the cops."

He pulled out his cellphone and walked off into the living room. Sam followed, not wanting to be left alone for long. 

"Look like?" Dean was saying, "Hell, I don't know, Sammy, what did he look like?"

Sam did his best to describe him, and Dean repeated it into the phone. They asked a few more questions, and Dean would say them to Sam, and Sam would answer them. Dean finally hung up, and announced that he needed a beer.

They were eating dinner at the kitchen table when Dean brought up the man in the house again.

"How long have you been feeling someone's been watching you?" He asked.

"A while. Ever since we moved here I think."

"What the Hell, why didn't you say something sooner?"

Sam rolled his shoulders, "I didn't think it was anything. Why make something big out of nothing? I thought I was just feeling it 'cause the house was kinda creepy."

"Well, I'll drive you home from school from now on if I have to. Some guy watching you walk home all alone. Jesus."

"You don't have to do that Dean," said Sam, "we need the money. I can get a ride."

"From who?"

"My friend Castiel. I've told you about him. He's nice. He'll give me rides home."

Dean frowned, but grunted in approval.

"Fine. That's fine. As long as you're not walking home by yourself anymore it's fine."

Sam swirled his macaroni around on his plate. "...Are you gonna tell Dad?"

Dean set his fork down, chewing slowly. "Depends."

"....On?"

"If they find anything."

Sam stared at him, puzzled, "You think they won't? I know what I saw."

"I know, I know, I believe you. But the cops'll find out what this guy is and why he's there and what not."

"Two hours ago you were calling him a hobo pervert!"

"Hey, I'm not saying I'm on his side, Jesus, Sam."

"You're making me sound like I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy, Sammy. I just...I think sometimes you have an overactive imagination."

Sam slammed his fork down on the table. "I know what I saw, Dean. There's a guy-some kid-up in that house--"

There was a knock at the door.

The brothers both turned their heads towards it, and then looked to each other across the table at the second knock.

Dean got up to answer it, and Sam looked through the kitchen window to see who it was. There were two woman cops standing on their porch, their faces stern and business like. Sam quietly but quickly went to follow his brother to the door, standing behind it so the cops wouldn't see him. He didn't want them to ask him any questions if they wanted to.

"Mr. Winchester?" one of them said.

"Yes?"

"We searched the house and we couldn't find any evidence of anyone being inside for longer than a few seconds. We found some footprints in the dust, but they remained close to the doorway and were only found on the first floor. We searched that house backwards and forwards and didn't find anything. No ones been living in that house for a year, Mr. Winchester. Are you sure your brother knows what he saw?"

Dean looked over to Sam, his eyes somewhat apologetic, "If you would have seen the look on his face when he got home today, you would have believed him."

"Well, you can assure him that he has nothing to be afraid of."

"Thank you, I will."

"Have a good night, Mr. Winchester."

"Thanks, you too." Dean shut the door.

He turned to Sam, ruffling his hair. "You hear that? Nothin' to be afraid of. _Tch_. Maybe you're just over-stressed, Sammy, and your brain is makin' you see things. You getting enough sleep?"

Sam didn't respond.

He knew what he saw.

 _"Nothing to be afraid of"_ they said.

Sam was more afraid than ever. 


	5. Teenagers From Outer Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam remained glaring up at the window. Whoever was in there--he hated them. He hated that out of everyone in this town he had chosen to play this game on him. He hated this kids guts. He hated his stupid smile, and his stupid wave. He hated everything about him. He hated him for putting him through this.

By the next day at lunch Cas seemed more or less back to normal.

Sam, however, hadn't been able to get the face of that kid in the window out of his head. He was hardly able to eat anything that morning, let alone eat at lunch.

He wasn't feeling any better about the whole thing. No matter how many times Dean told him it was nothing. 

"You feeling okay, Sammy cakes?" Meg asked.

"I'm just not very hungry." He pushed his brown paper bag to the middle of the table, "You can eat it Balthazar."

"Sweet!" He ripped open the bag at once, "Your big bro is honestly the best. Can he pack my lunches? My mother isn't even half as good as he is."

Sam laughed lightly, "I'll tell him you said that," He then turned to Castiel, "Cas, would you mind giving me rides home from school?"

"Of course I will, Sam," he said, "did Gordon do something else to you yesterday?"

"No...it's just..." he sighed heavily, looking to the palms of his hands that settled in his lap, "Do you guys believe in ghosts?"

"Ghosts?" repeated Balthazar, chewing slowly, "I don't know. What do they stand for?" Meg hit him hard in the shoulder. 

"I don't think I've seen anything that would really make me believe in them," said Meg, a smirk on her face from watching Balthazar nurse his shoulder, "all those stories online sound so cheesy to me."

"I'm with Meg," said Cas, "I haven't really seen any hard evidence of ghosts. Nothing to make me a believer at least. Why do ask?"

Sam sighed again, biting his bottom lip. He really wished he could have at least one person on his side on this. If he had one person who at least believed him a little bit, then maybe he wouldn't feel so crazy. He was turning out to be the weird kid again. It figures, he was always bound to be the weird kid in school.

He half didn't want to tell his friends what he saw, but half of him said that he could trust them. They were the best friends he's honestly ever had, so why not tell them.

"You guys are going to think this sounds crazy, but I think that house on Rosa really is haunted."

Castiels expression turned hard, and his eyes squinted, "Did Gordon tell you another story?"

"No, but...I saw a guy in the window when I was walking home yesterday, and it really freaked me out. My brother called the cos and they checked it out but they couldn't find any evidence of anyone being there at all. I think I saw a ghost guys, a real ghost."

"There was a man inside the house?" Castiel looked across the table to Meg and Balthazar, clearly alarmed.

"The cops said they didn't find anything," Sam repeated, "and that I don't have anything to be scared of...but I know I saw someone, guys! You believe me, right?"

Meg and Balthazar exchanged a look. Their eyebrows knitting together, and their faces wrinkling.

"Don't you?" Sam pressed.

"Well...you have been reading those Stephan King books a lot, Sam." said Balthazar carefully.

"Yeah, so?"

"Sammy, c'mon," said Meg, "You don't actually believe in ghosts do you?"

"I didn't used to," he exclaimed, "But I know what I saw guys! C'mon, don't you believe me, Cas?"

"I believe that you think you saw someone up there," he replied, "but there is probably a lot more reasonable explanations than a ghost."

Sam slouched in his chair, frowning at his fingernails. "You guys think I'm crazy too, then."

"No, Sam," Meg said hardly, "no ones saying you're crazy. You're just not thinking logically about this, kiddo. You're a smart kid. You think the only explanation for all this is a ghost?"

"Well...why couldn't it be a ghost?" said Sam, "Y'know, like, why not?"

"Because ghosts aren't real." Balthazar sighed, "I know you're freaked out over this, but, kid, if the cops say its nothing then it's nothing. Don't make this into something it's not."

"This town can only handle so much drama," added Meg, "we've had enough to last us the rest of the century."

Castiel and Balthazar only nodded along solemnly.

Sam took out his notebook and pencil from his bag, scribbling down another paragraph of his story. He ignored his friends for the remainder of the lunch period. It was childish of him, but at the moment he didn't really care. He didn't want to talk about it anymore-he just wanted to write about it. His story was almost done anyway. He wanted to finish it up.

 _You'll always be a freak,_ he told himself,  _why did you expect this school to be any different?_

When the bell rang to end lunch, Sam tossed his things back into his bag as he stood up.

"Sam," Castiel called to him, "I'll meet you by your locker after school, okay?"

Sam nodded and hurried off to gym class.

XxX

They were playing bad mitten with two of Jo's other friends.

Jo, yet again, was giving this game her all, and even starting to show off a little. It was a good thing that her friends were good sports.

"Hey, Jo," said Sam, serving the birdie.

"Yeah, Sasquatch?" she said, keeping her eyes on the game and running forward to smack the birdie with her racket.

"Do you happen to know anything about that house on Rosa Avenue? You know the one no one lives in anymore?"

She laughed, "Why the Hell do you wanna know anything about that?"

"Just because. I've been hearing some rumors about it."

"Well," she smacked the birdie as hard as she could and scored a point, "I don't really know the whole story to be honest, so if you're looking for the truth you're talkin' to the wrong girl."

"Just tell me what you know, Jo." Sam said, practically begging.

"Can we take five, Jo?" her friends called from over the net, their hands on their knees. She waved them off and they both gasped with relief.

She fiddled with her racket for a moment, spinning it around in her hands. She then jerked her head to the side to tell Sam to walk with her. They didn't wonder far from their net, only about half way through the gym where they wouldn't get hit with any run away birdies.

"Okay, well...last year this senior got sick," she said, "I don't know what he had, I just know he was sick. I was only a sophomore, so ya know, I tried to stay away from upperclassman stuff and they kept their stuff from me. Anyway, he was in and out of the hospital for a while. Apparently his folks were giving him crap for 'faking'. But this kid looked like death, he was not faking, let me tell ya. Then one day the family just packed up and left. Don't know where they went, don't know why. I just know they're not living there anymore, and lost'a people like to make crap up about it, because it's the only exciting thing that's happened in this town since Wal-Mart."

"So, the kid didn't die or anything?" Sam asked.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Do you know anything about it being haunted?"

She cocked her eyebrow at him, "I've heard stories, but none of them scare the pants off me. Why? You think it's haunted?"

Sam rolled his shoulder. Jo laughed at him and shook her head.

"Look, Sam, I like you, I really do, but if you believe any of those crackpot stories Gordon tells ya, well, I might just have to hit you."

"Isn't anyone around here at least a little bit open minded?" Sam exclaimed, "Why is it so impossible for you people to believe in a ghost?"

"Sam," said Jo, her tone turning serious. She took him by the arm and made him turn around the gymnasium, "look...everyone around here has had somebody die in their life. Everybody in this room. Wanna know how I know? Because I've grown up with these kids. We live in a small ass town, you can't cross the street without bumpin' elbows with somebody you went to preschool with. I know how it feels to have someone in your life die, and personally I  _can't_  believe in ghosts. I can't because if I think theres even that slim possibility that someone I love could still be around me...it'll just bring all that hurt back. Okay? I can't believe in ghosts. There's no such thing."

She let go of his arm, replacing her grip with a soft pat. "Sorry to burst your bubble."

Sam didn't really know what to say to her. He felt like he should apologize for something, but he wasn't really sure what for.

Jo flashed him a small, weak, smile before turning on her heel and waving her racket in the air.

"C'mon, ladies, whose up for round five?" She hollered.

The two girls groaned, laying flat on the gym floor.

Sam looked around the gym again, thinking about how normal this town seemed when he first got here a month ago.

XxX

As the bell rang to single the end of the day and the start of the weekend, Mr. Shurley announced over the hustle and bustle of his students that their first short story would be due on Monday.

Sam wondered if he was the only one who heard him, because all of his classmates were already out the door.

Castiel was already waiting for Sam at his locker when he got there.

"I don't need to grab anything," he said, "but hey, how did you get here so fast?"

"My last class is right above here," Castiel shrugged, turning on his heel to lead the way out to his car, "and Meg always leaves five minutes early so I don't walk with her or anything."

"Why does she leave?"

Castiel smirked, "Because she hasn't gotten caught yet."

"Have you ever ditched class?"

"Me? No. I can't get away with anything, not like Meg or Balthazar."

Sam huffed. "I have the same problem. My brother could probably get away with murder, but I'm not allowed to open the window without asking anyone first."

He was being dramatic, of course. When they were on the road Dad was really uptight about where Dean and Sam were all the time, and he was always concerned about their safety-even when he didn't necessarily  _have_  to worry about their safety. But as they grew older he wasn't down their throats about it all the time, and ever since they moved here he's been very relaxed. But Dean has had it drilled into his head that Sam's protection is priority, and it was hard for him to break out of that.

They walked out to the student parking lot, where kids blasted their music and honked their horns at their friends just for the hell of it.

Cas lead Sam to a jubilee gold, '78 Lincoln Continental. Sam had to tug a little extra hard on the handle to get the door open, but besides that the car wasn't bad for a high school-er to drive.

"You have a nice car." said Sam, making Castiels face light up.

"Why thank you. I quite like it. Balthazar makes of it all the time though, he calls it the Pimp-mobile."

Cas turned the car on, and instead of the rock music Sam was so used to hearing, he was greeted with 90's rap and hip hop. Sam turned to give his friend a confused look.

"What?" he said.

Sam started laughing, "I never pegged you for a rap kinda guy."

"Oh," said Cas sheepishly, "yeah, I don't know-you can change it if you want to."

"No, Cas, it's fine. Driver picks the music."

Castiel pulled out of his parking space and made his way out of the lot.

"So, how's your story coming along?" Castiel asked as they sat in the long line of cars waiting their turn to get out of the school.

"It's good. I think. I'm almost done with it. Well-It is done, I just don't know if I like the ending."

"Can I read it?"

"Right now?"

"Well, whenever." He shrugged.

"Do you wanna stay for dinner?" said Sam, grinning, "You can stay for dinner and read my story!"

Cas chewed on his chapped lips for a moment. His forefinger tapping on the steering wheel. "I can probably stay, yes."

"Okay, cool." Sam sat back in the leather seat, "Dean will finally stop pestering me about my 'imaginary' friends."

"Imaginary?"  
"He thinks I don't have any friends."  
"Well thats...mean."

Sam shrugged, "Eh. He kinda has a right to believe that. I've never really made friends before, let alone have someone over."

"Really?" Castiel frowned, "Did you really move around that often?"

"Yeah."

They were out of the parking lot now, and driving towards Sams house. Sam was giving him a few directions, but Castiel said he thought could make it to Rosa Ave. by himself.

They were pretty quiet after that. They listened to Castiels mix of the 90's hip hop/rap CD, and simply enjoyed each others company.

Until they started to approach the white house.

Sam tried not to look at it. He tried not to stare. But he couldn't help but sneak just one quick glance up to that second story window. He tried to fight off the urge, he really did. He told himself that there wouldn't be anything there-but he looked.

There he was.

He was staring back down at Sam again, and when he saw him looking back, he smiled, and waved his fingers.

"Cas!" Sam blurted so abruptly that Castiel slammed on the breaks.

"What? What?" He whipped his head around to look across the road, "Is there an animal? What is it?"

"Look! Look!" Sam was unbuckling his seat belt and climbing out of the car, pointing to the kid in the window. "Cas, look! He's back! He's right there!"

"Sam, come back here!" Castiel reached across the seat to grab him, but Sam was already gone and running to the gate.

"I see you!" Sam shouted. The guys grin merely broadened, both of his hands were pressed against the glass now, "I see you up there! Castiel, don't you see him?! He's right there!"

Castiel was out of his car now and jogging up alongside Sam. He followed his finger and looked up to the second story window, squinting and tilting his head to the side slightly.

"I don't see anyone, Sam." he said.

"But he's right there! I see him! Honest to-" Sam whipped his head back around to the window. He had only looked away for a second. It was only a second. He hardly even blinked. The guy was gone again. Vanished in thin air.

"He-he's gone..." Sam whispered. 

He wrapped his hands around the fence, his eyes still locked onto the second story window. The house remained still. Sam almost wanted to cry. He had been right there, and Castiel was right next to him. If Cas would have only looked a second earlier then maybe he would have seen him too. Maybe then they wouldn't think Sam was crazy. They wouldn't think he was a crazy monster obsessed freak. Because he wasn't! He knew what he saw, and it was driving him nuts that no one else was seeing him. 

Sam felt Castiel place his hand on his shoulder. He patted him gently. It almost felt like it was out of pity. It was horrible. 

Sam remained glaring up at the window. Whoever was in there--he hated them. He hated that out of everyone in this town he had chosen to play this game on him. Why him? Why Sam? Did he sense that Sam had an intense desire to be normal for once and wanted to steal that from him? Was he here to remind him that he couldn't _ever_ be normal? To remind him that no matter how much he pretended to be he could never be normal....

He hated this kids guts. He hated his stupid smile, and his stupid wave. He hated everything about him. He hated him for putting him through this. Why was he doing this? Was this _fun_ to him? Making Sam feel like he was insane?

"Sam..." said Castiel softly, "it's okay. Let's just go. I won't tell anyone."

"Yeah..." he said, "Okay."

Castiel and Sam walked back to the Lincoln, where rap was still beating out of the speakers, and the doors remained carelessly open. They settled back inside. When Sam stole a glance over his shoulder at the house one last time, he still wasn't there.

XxX

Sams remained glued onto Cas the entire time he read.

They sat on the living room floor. Cas on one side of the coffee table and Sam on the other. Castiel held the notebook close to his face, which made it difficult for Sam to tell if he was enjoying the story or not.

He sat with his long legs crossed and his hands twisting in his lap. Every turn of the page was another skip of his heart beat.

Finally, Cas set it down.

"Well?" Sam said, green eyes wide and sparkling with the hope of approval.

Castiel was trying to hide a smile, but he was very bad at acting. He gave up trying to be serious and simply exclaimed, "I love it."

"Really? You think it's good?"

"I think it's fantastic, Sam!" said Cas, "I love the ending, it ties up so perfectly."

"You sure? It's not predicable?"

"Sam, I've read a million books in my lifetime. I know a good story when I read one."

"Oh, wow," Sam couldn't stop grinning, "thank you, Cas."

"Mr. Shurley will love it as well. He's a big horror fan. There's one thing I noticed though..."

Sam's face dropped, "What? What?"

" _The_   _title_ ," said Cas, "Sam, you have name it something better than 'Ghost Stories'. It  _deserves_  something better than that."

"I'm horrible at coming up with names though," he rolled his eyes, "does the title really matter?"

"Personally, yes. I think it does. Why don't you name it Rosa Avenue or something?"

Sam sighed, resting his cheek on his knuckles, "I'll work on it."

"Other than that it was brilliant. A million times better than any other story I've heard about that dumb old house."

"Thanks." said Sam. "...Hey, Cas...I'm sorry for upsetting you yesterday."

"Upsetting me?" Castiel frowned, but then he remembered,"Oh...Sam that had nothing to do with you. Really it's fine."

"Okay. So, what did upset you?"

Castiel went quiet for a moment, picking at his fingernails so he wouldn't have to look at Sam.

"I guess I should tell you. You're the only one in this town who doesn't know. I trust you."

He sighed.

"I had family who lived in that house on Rosa, Sam."

"What?" Sam gaped, "Oh, Cas, I'm sorry, I-"

He held up his hand, smiling kindly, "It's fine. It really doesn't bother me. Let me just finish my story."

Sam nodded, settling back down.

"I had my aunt, my uncle, and two cousins, Gabriel and Lucifer, living in that house. They were very rich as you've probably been told. I was very close with Gabriel. The part about him getting sick is true. He got very sick in February. He had pneumonia. But that wasn't why they left...he's in a coma. The only person who knows put him in a coma is Gabriel...and we can't exactly ask him right now. We all think it has something to do with Lucifer. The way they just abandoned him was sudden, but not surprising if you knew them like my family did. They didn't like spending their money. Especially on Gabriel. The hospital bills were stacking up and they just split. My parents, sister, and I have been visiting him. We're...we're the only family he has left."

"Ohmygod..." Sam breathed, "Castiel-I'm-"

"It's fine," he smiled a smile like he had been living a thousand lives and he was exhausted, "really. I just wanted you to know the truth."

"Is he going to be okay? Your cousin?"

"The doctors say so," he sighed, "there hasn't been any news on him in a while. They just keep telling us he'll wake up when he'll wake up. All we can do is wait..."

"Look, Cas," said Sam, "I can pitch the story, I'll write another one."

"No way," Cas wrinkled his brow, "I won't allow you to do that! This is a literary masterpiece!"

"I don't know about that, Cas."

Castiel just beamed a big gummy smile at him, and Sam couldn't help but return one, shaking his head.

"Do you wanna watch some scary movies now?" asked Castiel.

"Oh, Cas," said Sam, placing his hand over his chest, "you know the way to my heart."

They watched Freddy Vs. Jason until Dean got home with pizza.

"Hey, Sammy," he called when he opened the door, "did you invite a pimp over or something?"

Castiel pretended to be insulted, giving Sam a look that made him laugh.

"No, Dean," he said, "it's just Cas."

"Oh," Dean set the pizza boxes on the counter top and walked over to shake Castiels hand, "Well, hey-ya, Cas. I'm Dean, the cool older brother Sams probably been telling you about."

"Actually," said Castiel, "from what Sam told me, I imagined you to look much...geekier...?"

Deans grin fell, resulting in Sam laughing into hysterics. Dean then hit his brother on the side of the head, scolding him for spreading rumors about him.

Sam was still chuckling at the kitchen table.

"So, Cas," said Dean, ignoring Sam the best he could, "what grade are you in again?"

"I'm a senior."  
"Oh, nice. Do you know where you're going to school yet?"  
"Not yet.I want to go into nursing though."  
"A nurse? Huh. Hey, good for you, man."

"Thank you," Castiel smiled shyly, looking down at his lap. Sam eyed him suspiciously, but didn't say anything-mostly because he had a mouthful of pizza. "I don't believe Sams ever said where you work."

"I work at the Roadhouse," said Dean, "Sometimes I cook, sometimes I do dishes. It's a decent job."

"Oh, I know that place," said Castiel, "my sister waitressed there for a while. It was before you got here, so you wouldn't-"

Castiel was cut off by Baby Got Back suddenly playing in the house. Dean and Sam turned to each other and then looked around the room, trying to identify where the source was.

Cas was turning bright red in the meantime, slowly pulling out his cellphone from his pocket. When Sam and Dean caught him doing this, they simply stared in complete and utter shock.

Castiel swallowed before answering.

"Hello?...I'm at Sam Winchester's house...Yes...I know...Yes...I'm coming, I'm on my way. Okay...Goodbye, Anna." He hung up and stashed it back away in his jeans pocket. He cleared his throat, standing up from the table. "My cousin...set that as my ringtone a while ago," he explained, "before he...I haven't had the heart to change it back. I'm sorry."

"Uh, no-no need to apologize, dude," Dean was struggling to hold back a snicker, "it's cool. Really. I just...I never pegged you for a 90's rap kinda guy."

Cas blushed, but he flashed a gummy smile.

"I'm sorry, Sam, Dean, but I must excuse myself. Family stuff. I have to head home now, but I'll see you at school on Monday, Sam."

"Okay," said Sam, "bye, Cas, thanks for coming over."

"Thank you for the pizza, and for letting me read your story."

"Bye, Cas," Dean waved to him, "it was nice meeting you."

"You too, Dean." Cas waved back, smiling to his shoelaces as he ducked out the front door.

The brothers watched him get inside his Lincoln from the kitchen window, and drive away with his 90's hip hop playing on the radio.

"He's a weird kid," said Dean affectionately, "A weird little guy."

"Yeah," said Sam, "he's weird sometimes, but he's a good guy."

Dean nodded. "Glad your makin' friends, Sammy...and what's this story you wrote? Can I read it?"

"Oh, well-um...I mean, I guess. If you want to." Sam got up and went to the coffee table to grab his notebook. He set it down on the table in front of his brother. "I have to go type it tomorrow at the library and print it off and stuff, so sorry if you can't read my handwriting."

" _Tch_ ," Dean snorted, "can't read your handwriting. I checked your homework for the first five years you went to school, I can read your handwriting. Lemme see it."

The anticipation began again once Deans eyes laid on the paper. Sam anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, and watched his brother read. His expression remained the same throughout the whole story. It was a neutral expression, which was even worse than when Cas held the notebook in front of his face the entire time.

"It's a ghost story." Dean said after the first paragraph or so.

"Yeah," said Sam, "yeah-um-I-I want to write like Stephan King. I wanna be a writer."

Dean looked up at him for a moment before flicking back down to the page, nodding slowly and humming. He didn't speak again until he was finished with it. By that time it felt like hours had passed.

Dean closed the notebook, patted it, and slid it back across the table to his brother. "It's good, Sammy," he said, "real good. You're gonna give Stephan King a run for his money."

"You think so?" said Sam.

"Hell yeah," Dean replied, his mouth full of pizza, "you're a Winchester for cryin' out loud!"

Sam beamed, holding the notebook to his chest.

"You're really good at horror writing, Sammy. I was gettin' goosebumps too, lookit." He held up his arm to show a few of his hairs standing on end. Sam cocked his eyebrow at him.

"Okay, so maybe they went away," Dean shrugged, "you're still good! You could scare the pants off of anyone if ya tried...there's just one thing."

"What?" His heart skipped a beat, "Is it the ending? It was predictable right? I knew I should have gone with my other idea-I was gonna kill them all off, guns blazing-"

"No, no," said Dean, chuckling, "not the ending, I loved the ending. It's just..."

"What?"

" _The title_."


	6. The Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's been one hell'ova lonely summer here in El Casa De Gabriel, kiddo."

Sam watched the rain drizzle the pavement from inside the warm Impala.

They blew through little puddles of rain water, drenching the sidewalk and some little kids wearing their rainboots to play in the water. They all squealed as the Chevy zoomed by, kicking the water back after them.

Sam would have walked to the library himself today, if it hadn't been for the rain, and Dean pestering him about getting sick. His older brother insited on driving him. Even though the rain wasn't that bad.

But honestly, Sam didn't fight Dean much about it. He would have given anything not to walk past that house again.

"How long do you think you'll be?" asked Dean.

Sam rolled his shoulder. "Dunno. Probably not too long. I can just text you or something to let you know when I'm done."

"Sounds good to me."

They pulled up to the front of the library, the rain noticeably coming down harder.

"Told you it was going to get worse." Dean snarked.

Sam just rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "I'll see you later." He slammed the door shut, pulling up the hood of his yellow rain slicker and running to the doors of the building.

"Good morning!" said the woman-Missouri-at the front desk.

"Good morning." he replied, putting his books in the return slot, "is it all right for me to use a computer?"

"Of course, honey," she said, she pointed to a room down the hall, "they're right over there."

"Thank you."

He walked down the hall to the computer room. The entire library was vacant it seemed except for himself and Missouri. It was eerily quiet, especially with the rain coming down like it was being shot out of a nail gun.

He took off his slicker and hung it behind the chair before sitting down at the computer.

He pulled out his journal from his bag and started typing.

The clicking of the keyboard echoed around the silent library. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the rain was coming down harder than ever now. So it seemed like Sam was going to be the only visitor as of now.

Sam could hear the raindrops pelting the roof and windows like a million bullets threatening to shatter the glass. The dark storm clouds kept the building dark, and they were forced to turn on the lamps and flickering lights. It set the perfect atmosphere for Sam to write. All he felt he needed now was a crackling fire and maybe a mug of hot coffee.

It made him feel professional. For a little while he could at least pretend he was an actual writer. A writer that was about to get his work published.

Typing away on his paper, enveloped in the story and the storm outside, he didn't hear anyone approach him.

"Sam, hey,"

Sam jumped, spinning around in his chair to see non other than Castiel.

"Good morning," he said with his famous gummy smile.

"Oh, Cas," said Sam, "you scared me."

"Scared you?" teased Cas, "I thought Sam Winchester could never get scared."

"I do when people jump out at me like that."

Castiel didn't reply to it, pulling up a chair to sit next to Sam at the computer next to him. "What are you up to?"

"Typing my story. You working?"

"Yep. But it's going to be a long day here if the weather stays like this." he jutted his thumb back to the window. It looked like someone had just dumped a bucket of water all over a watercolor picture. Everything was blurred and smeary. You could hardly see the other side of the street from where they were sitting.

"Yeah," said Sam, "what a lovely day."

Castiel hummed sarcastically.

"Oh, hey, was everything okay at your house? If you don't mind me asking, anyway."

"Oh no, it's fine," said Cas, "everything's okay. Anna and I were just going to visit Gabriel yesterday and she wondered when I was going to be home."

"Any news on him?"

Castiel shook his head. "Same as always."

"That stinks. I hope he gets better soon, Cas."

Cas smiled weakly at him, like he was getting exhausted from hearing people tell him that all the time. But Sam didn't know what else to say to him.

"Thank you, Sam," he said, "I hope he does too."

There was an awkward silence between the two of them that Sam filled with the typing of the keyboard. There was a soft boom of thunder in the distance.

"If you want I could find you some more books when you're done with your paper." said Castiel.

"Oh, yeah," said Sam, "that'd be awesome."

"It'll probably be the only work I'll do all day." he sighed, "Hell of a way to spend a Saturday."

"Castiel," Missouri called from the front desk, "Castiel, will you come here a moment?"

"Duty calls." he stood up from his chair, "come find me when you're done. I'll show you the books."

"I will." Sam promised, turning in the chair to watch Castiel leave the computer room.

He then went back to writing. The clicking and clacking of the keys under his finger pads was hypnotic. The only sounds in the room now were his typing, the rain, and the ever-growing booms of thunder. Warning the town that the storm was getting closer.

By the time Sam was done, lightening was joining the thunder, and the rain was only coming down harder.

He printed off his paper and set it neatly into his folder before going off to find Castiel.

He was stacking books in the Young Adult section. His shopping cart was near him, still stacked full of books that needed to be returned to their shelves.

"Cas," said Sam when he approached him.

"You finished already?" He turned, placing the last few books in their rightful homes.

"Yep. What does Stephan King have in store for me now?"

Castiel chuckled, leading Sam down the aisles back to the horror section.

"Lets see," he ran a finger down the spines as they walked, his blue eyes scanning over the titles until finally spotting the one he wanted, " _The Green Mile_ is a good one. It's a six part-er, but we have the whole set in one novel right here. Let's see... _Christine_ ,  _Dream Catcher, The Stand..._ you sure you don't want to read  _It_?"

Sam shifted on his feet a bit, worrying on his lip and staring at the tattered paperback cover Castiel held in his hand.

He was sixteen after all...he really shouldn't be scared of clowns anymore...

"I'll take it," he caved, "just to see what it's like."

"Okay," said Cas, "I'll give you the first copy of Carver Edlunds books too." He wondered down the aisle to the E's and pulled out another paperback that seemed to be pristine condition. "Not many people read his books," he explained, "I like him though. I mean, he's not very popular, but he has enough of a fan base to keep writing."

"Thanks, Cas," Sam smiled down at his new bundle of books, "I'm really excited to read these. I'll probably finish them by the end of the day thanks to this weather."

"Lucky," Castiel pretended to sigh, "Missouri's having me stay here all day despite the storm. She thinks it'll die down eventually."

"That sinks man."

Sams phone buzzed. Dean had texted him, letting him know he was parked out front.

"Deans here, I better get going. Thanks again for the books."

"Anytime, Sam. See you on Monday."

Sam tossed a wave to his friend over his shoulder before turning the corner away from the aisle and walking back to the front desk.

Missouri smiled warmly when he came back up to her. She took his books and started scanning them under the red light. She made small talk to him about the storm and the atmosphere it sets. "It always makes people want to read." she said.

Sam nodded along with her.

It was then when he saw the donation bucket out of the corner of his eye again, but this time he actually looked at it instead of just taking a glance.

His heart stopped.

He knew that face.

It was the face of the guy standing in the window inside the house on Rosa Avenue. The house that used to belong to Castiel's relatives. This guys face was plastered on the donation bucket, looking at him from a black and white photograph that had obviously been his last school picture. His hair was combed back, and his ears were vacant of any piercings. He was even wearing a tie and a button down shirt.

It couldn't be.

There was no way this was the same guy. Yet, that smile was unmistakable. Sam had seen that smile flashing down at him from a second story window.

"Sad, isn't it?" said Missouri, catching his eye, "he was such a sweet boy."

"Oh-" said Sam, "y-eah...sad."

She leaned over the counter a bit to get closer to him, talking softer, "You wanna know something, boy? You know that sweet young man who works here? Castiel?"

Sam nodded. His heart was hammering in his chest. He already knew what she was going to say next.

"That's his cousin."

Oh shit.

She sat back up right. "Poor Castiel has been bustin' his little butt to help out his family. He's such a sweet boy. So much heart. Say, you okay, honey? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Sams mouth felt dry, and his stomach might as well had been in a Constrictor Knot.

"Um," he said, "I-I'm okay-I just, uh, gotta go to the bathroom. Bye." He took his books off the counter and ran out the door, leaving the librarian baffled.

"All right then." He had heard her mutter before the library doors shut with a slam.

He was soaked by the time he climbed into the Impala, but his books and pages remained protected by the handy-dandy school bag he had brought with him.

"God, it's really comin' down." said Dean, mostly to himself, as he drove back towards their house. They could barely see the road in front of them.

Sam didn't speak. He hadn't heard what his brother said. He couldn't hear the Sex Pistols blasting on the radio, or the storm raging above them. He was too busy thinking over and over again how could he had seen Castiels cousin inside that house.

It had to be a ghost. It had to be  _his_  ghost. Gabriels ghost.

Sam couldn't make up something like this. Right? He wasn't crazy.

...Right?

XxX

The storm raged on throughout the day. Their power flickered on and off, eventually Dean just turned the lights all off and started lighting candles.

"It's like our own seance up in here, Sammy." he joked.

Sam didn't respond. He had been curled up in their dads chair since they got back home. He was clutching  _The Green Mile_ in his hands, opened to the first page but it remained unread. He couldn't stop thinking about Gabriel-whoever was in that house.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked finally, he put the back of his hand to his brothers forehead, "you've been acting pretty funny."

"Yeah." Sam lied, "I'm fine."

"You sure don't look fine. You're turning a little pale there, buddy."

"I'm okay." Sam got up off the chair and started heading to his bedroom, "I think I'm gonna sleep for a while."

"Okay, weirdo." said Dean, "I'll make you some soup for when you wake up."

Sam shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it. He locked it.

He wasn't actually going to sleep of course. He would never in a million years tell Dean what he was actually planning-his brother would kill him if he found out, and then Dad would revive him just to kill him again.

Sam grabbed his rain slicker, shoes, and a flashlight.

The wind howled at him when he opened his window and climbed out of it. The rain pelting his cheeks like frozen darts as he closed it back up and ran along the side of the house. Through the soaking wet grass and mud puddles that kicked dirt to the bottom of his jeans.

By the time he reached the end of the street, his toes were freezing and the only thing that had managed to remain dry was the part of him that was under the slicker. Being cold was the last thing he was worrying about though.

Straight out of a horror movie, a streak of lightening cracked through the sky when he laid eyes on the white house. It's screen door squeaking and slamming shut, and it shutters hanging on a thread.

Sam opened the gate, walking up to the porch, slick with rainwater. With a trembling hand he opened the mahogany door.

He clicked on his flashlight. The yellow light beaming inside the dark and dusty house, showing him that it was completely empty.

He took a step inside, pulling down the hood of his rain slicker.

Sam looked around the empty house as the wind continued to howl behind him, slamming the front door shut for him.

He spun around with his flashlight, catching the glint from the door handle as he did. He gulped.

The rain was beating the house so much it felt like it was about to cave in on him.

He started walking away from the foyer.

"Hello?" he called, his teeth chattering. His voice bounced off of the walls.

Only the creaks of the floorboards under his tennis shoes replied to him.

"Hello? G-Gabriel? Is that your name? Gabriel?"

More howling. More rain.

"C-c'mon," he said, pointing the flashlight up towards the ceiling now and spinning around on his heel. The chandelier sort of rocked back and forth, twinkling the crystals that hung from it, "I know you're in here! Come out and show yourself!"

Thunder boomed through the sky like a canon shot.

Sam dropped his arm back down, glaring at the dark space around him. He walked around some more, waiting for that falling feeling to return to his gut.

Something shiny caught his eye.

He beamed the flashlight over to its direction, and saw a small silver trinket laying on the ground. He hurried over to it, bending down and holding it in his fingers.

It was the necklace he had found the first time he was in here.

Standing back up, and shined the flashlight on it, rolling it over in his hand to reading the inscriptions on it.

It was a guitar pick.

Gabriels name was carved into it.

"So you are here!" Sam shouted over another clap of thunder. He held the necklace up in the air, "I've got your necklace, Gabriel! Come out! I know you're here, I've seen you!"

Something-it sounded like a door slowly being pushed open-creaked from upstairs. Sam stood frozen, his green eyes wide and staring into the unknown darkness. His flashlight shook in his hand.

"H-h-hello?"

A blot of lightening lit up the dark house.

Sam thought he saw someone standing at the top of the stairs, but when he beamed his own flashlight up there there wasn't anything. His heart was pounding in his chest and in his ears, and all the blood in his head felt like it had drained.

Forcing his legs to move from their spot, he started to make his way up the stairs.

The guitar pick remained pressed into his palm tightly, feeling the imprint of a triangle in his skin, and the edges cutting into his hand.

As he walked up the stairs his flashlight showed him glimpses of the pictures that hung on the walls. The glass was fuzzy with dust, but he was still able to make out the snapshots of another families memories.

He saw that they were mostly pictures that contained Gabriel. An awkward family photograph of a younger looking Gabriel-maybe about ten-and his older brother. Both of them wearing dress shirts and ties, looking very uncomfortable with having their picture taken. More school pictures, jumping from kindergarten to fifth grade and fifth grade to eighth grade and then the same school picture that was used on the donation bucket at the library.

He didn't mind himself with the pictures much. He didn't want to get into them. He wanted to find out once and for all what was in this house.

So he went on.

Reaching the top of the stairs he found broken glass. Pieces of a green vase and dead flowers scattered around a side table.

He carefully stepped around it.

As he walked down the hall he had his head swiveling back and forth with his flashlight, on the look out for anything or anybody. Still nothing.

Until he reached the room where Gabriel would watch him from the window.

He sucked in a breath, the air turning colder.

The door was already wide open. He walked inside.

It was a bedroom.

It looked as though time had stood still here. The bed remained unmade, and there were tennis shoes and piles of clothing left haphazardly and uncared for on the floor and in a hamper in the corner. Posters of rock bands and movies were plastered on every wall, school books and notebooks sat untouched in a desk chair where a jacket hung lazily off the back of. At the desk sat a picture frame.

Sam walked forward and picked it up, wiping the dust off of it with his sleeve. Staring up at him was a picture of Castiel and Gabriel.

Sams heart sank a little. He had never seen Castiel look so happy.

He sighed, placing the picture back down.

He saw his cloud of breath fade away in front of his nose.

Sam spun around on his heel, wielding the flashlight as though it were a sword.

The closet door was slowly opening.

The flashlight trembled in his hands, unable to focus on the one point-the shadow inside the closet.

The house creaked as though someone where walking towards him. Sam couldn't see; his hand was too shaky and clammy. The flashlight fell from his grip, rolling across the floorboards.

Sam instantly regretted doing this. He had no idea if this ghost was actually Gabriel. He had no idea if this  _was_  a ghost-although he was fairly certain that it  _really really_ was-he had only seen this person from far away really, and the time before that had merely been a few seconds tops. He had no idea what he was in for. Of all the stupid things he could have done-

Another crack of lightening and a roll of thunder following it, the flash of light lit up the house again, illuminating the person that was standing a few feet away from Sam.

Sam stumbled backwards. His heart falling out of his chest and to the bottom of his gut.

"Are-are you G-Gabriel?"

"Yes." he replied fiercely.

"An-and you're in a coma?"

Gabriel didn't respond. Sam was afraid he may have angered him, but he kept going, holding back every nerve that was telling him to scream.

"Are you a ghost?" He squeaked out. 

Gabriel walked closer, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes in what Sam thought was an annoyed glare.

"You're a lot taller than I remember."

Sam blinked. "Excuse me?"

Gabriel gestured madly with his hands, "You. Gigantor. Did you spring up five feet since the last time we met, or were you always this tall?"

"I-I-um...I haven't grown an inch since we got here...?"

"Hmp." Gabriel folded his arms across his chest, "I must be shrinking.  _Perfect_. That's  _just_  what I need." He turned around on his heel and tossed his hand in the air, like he was throwing the idea of shrinking away.

"Um," Sam held up his finger, "um-Gabriel?"

He spun back around, hands behind his back, and tipping forward on his toes, "Yes?"

"You're--you're a ghost right? I'm not--I'm not crazy?"

Gabriel shrugged, "I don't know squat about you, kiddo. You could be a raging lunatic for all I know."

"But you're a ghost!"  
"More or less."

"I was right! I knew it! I knew this house was haunted!"

"Whoopdie-fuckin'-doo." Gabriel rolled his index finger around in a circle as glared at his posters on the ceiling, "Congrats, Sasquatch. Is that what you came here for? To prove something to your little friends?"

"...N-No?" Sam frowned. "I came here because you've been harassing me--"

" _Harassing_?"

"Yes, harassing. You made me think I was crazy--showing up and disappearing when someone else goes to see if you're there. What the hell is that all about huh?"

"I like screwing with people." He shrugged. His eyes were half lidded and bored.

"Just--why me? Why did you pick me? I've got enough problems."

"You're tellin' me," said Gabriel, "every other day you walk home all bloody and bruised."

Sams frown grew. "Why did you pick me."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "Look, I didn't  _pick_ you, okay? You're the only person who can see me. Period."

"What?" Sam breathed.

"Ever since I've been in a coma I haven't been able to contact anyone. No matter how hard I've tried-and trust me, I've tried." Gabriel kicked at the dust but nothing came up, "Then you came along."

"But-why?"

"Now how the Hell should I know?" he snapped back, meeting Sam's eyes, "All I know is that no one can hear me, and no one can see me other than you. It's been one hell'ova lonely summer here in El Casa De Gabriel, kiddo."

"Okay...but...what was the feeling that weird feeling before? Was that you? Before I always got this weird presence feeling, but now you're standing in front of me and I don't feel it all."

Gabriel barked a laugh, "That was me just screwing with you. I've been cooped up in here for months, dude! I've got to find some ways to have fun here."

Sam ran a hand through his wet hair, muttering under his breath,"I can't believe this is happening right now...how is this happening..."

"Beats me, kid..." he said, "...look, you don't have to stay here or anything. If you came here to tell me off then whatever. I won't mess with you anymore. Just do me a favor and tell my cousin that I appreciate him visiting and junk."

Sam's heart sank a bit, but he also felt a little guilty. Out of all the people that could see Gabriel it had to be him. Some random-ass kid from out of state, and not his own family. Not Castiel.

"I'll tell him..." he said quietly.

He looked down at the necklace he still held in his sweaty hand. He held it out in front of him.

"Do you want this?"

"I can't do anything with it. Can't touch anything either."

"Oh." Sam set it down on the desk next to the picture frame.

The rain was dying down a bit outside now.

"I'm...I'm sorry. About everything."

"Yeah." said Gabriel, looking back down at the ground and pretending to kick his clothes, though they remained settled in place.

Sam swallowed hard. He felt horrible now. Gabriel seemed so lonely here, and now that he was looking at it from a different light, Gabriel hadn't been-harassing didn't seem like the right word but he didn't really have another word for it-him out of meanness. He just wanted company.

And, dammit, why did Sam have to be so damn nice. He felt insane for what he was about to do. 

"I-I can stay." he said, "I wanna stay."

Gabriel snapped his head up to him, "You  _want_  to?" he tried to hide the hope in his voice, but failed to.

"Yeah." said Sam.

_This cannot be real--I'm crazy, this is it, I'm insane. Ghosts aren't real and I'm crazy._

"I'll stay. How often do you get to talk to a ghost? Ya know?"

"You're not staying here out of pity are you?" Gabriel frowned.

"No!" Sam kinda-sorta-half-lied, "No, I want to stay. Besides, I can tell you stuff about Cas and stuff if you want, and you can tell me stuff you want me to pass on. I'll figure out a way to tell him without sounding crazy."

Gabriel thought about it for a moment, then he sat down on the floor, crossing his legs Indian Style. "You sure you want to stay in this dusty old house with me?"

"Yeah," said Sam, joining him on the floor, "really, I don't mind."

"Okay, well, spill, kid! Tell me all about the outside world! Have you seen Winter Solider because I've been dying to see it!"

"It's Sam by the way," he said, "and you haven't seen it yet?"

"Coma." Gabriel shrugged, "Turns out they're not all what they're cracked up to be."

"You're horrible."

"Didn't say I wasn't, now on with it, Sammy! Tell me all about this outside world you speak of."

The rain started to die down, and the storm began to roll away. Making the house settle comfortably as Sam answered the questions Gabriel had to ask.

XxX

"Ah, man, I can't believe I missed Sharknado 2!" Gabriel fell back on the floor, covering his face with his hands.

"It was everything you would think it would be." said Sam with a smile.

"Man, I have so much catching up to do when I wake up..."

They had lost track of time. The storm had cleared, and it left the town in a sleepy and calm state. The sky was still gray with a teasing threat of more rain, but nothing came. Just rougher winds than usual that knocked the loose leaves from the trees and scattered them all over the wet sidewalk.

After getting over the fact that he was in fact talking to a real live ghost, Sam was able to enjoy himself and enjoy hanging out with Gabriel. He didn't try to dwell much on the whole thing. If he dove too deep he was afraid he was going to drive himself crazy. He even had to remind himself a few times that this kid he was talking to was in fact in a coma. He was a ghost. A  _ghost_.

Sam had to silently pinch himself once of twice to make sure this was real.

Sam looked at his watch to check was time it was, realizing that it was much later than he assumed it was. He hadn't been home for two hours, it was a wonder how Dean had managed to not notice yet.

"Oh, crap," muttered Sam, "I better be getting home."

"So soon?"

"Yeah, sorry, Gabriel," he got up off the floor, dusting off his pants, and promising, "I'll come back tomorrow."

"Okay. I don't know though, my schedule is pretty booked. I'm a busy guy."

"Sure you are. Bye, Gabriel."

Gabriel wiggled his fingers. "Bye-bye."

Sam hurried home, cutting across his neighbors backyards until reaching his own. He wiggled through his window, which proved to be much harder than getting out the first time. He nearly knocked over his lamp and nightstand in the process, if he hadn't caught himself.

He let his rain slicker fall to the floor along with his muddy tennis shoes and jeans. He switched them out for sweatpants, and his damp, dusty, sweatshirt for the purple whippet shirt Dean always gave him crap for.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

 _Don't look suspicious,_ he told himself,  _I was here the whole time. I didn't do anything wrong._

He unlocked his door and opened it to see Dean standing there with a tray of soup and crackers.

"Sammy," he said, "you're finally awake!"

"Umm, yeah. Sorry-I just totally crashed I guess," he pretended to yawn, "best nap ever."

"I was just gonna try and knock again. I can't believe you slept through that whole storm, I thought the roof was gonna tear off this place."

"Uh, yeah," Sam side stepped past him, raking his hand through his hair, "I don't know, man-I just-I was dead asleep."

"No kidding." said Dean, giving him a weird look, but handing over the tray of food to him, "I heated this up in the microwave a few times, so here. You better eat up."

"Thanks, Dean."

"Mmhmm," said Dean, "there's He-Man re-runs on if you wanna watch them with me."

"Duh!"

Dean ruffled his little brothers hair, giving him a warm smile as the brothers entered the living room and sat down on their patchy, worn out, couch.

Sam ate the soup and watched He-Man with his brother. Memories of doing this a thousand other times in millions of motels flickered in his mind. This time though, it was in their own house. Their own home.

Sam looked to his brother for a moment, seeing the animated television show reflect in his eyes. He then turned back to the screen, thinking about Gabriel. Thinking about how when they parted, he was already home, and he didn't have anyone to make soup for him, and watch He-Man re-runs with him.

Gabriel was all alone in that house. While his body was in the hospital where Cas and his family would check up on him only to receive the same news over and over again.

It made Sam not want to finish his lunch.


	7. The Cosmic Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the other hand Sam couldn't help but feel like that this would happen to him, knowing his stupid luck. Coming to Greenwater he thought it was going to be smooth sailing. He wasn't going to be a freak anymore, nothing weird was going to happen that would make people turn away from him. Sam, his Dad, and Dean were all going to live comfy cozy in their new house in their nice neighborhood, and Sam was going to go to a nice school and get good grades and have friends and be normal. But this would happen. He couldn't possibly be normal. The universe wouldn't allow that to happen.

Sam couldn't stop wondering about Gabriel all the next day throughout school. He couldn't help but wonder what he's been doing up there to pass time all along. He could kind of imagine how lonely and boring it must be. When they were living on the road sometimes it would just be Dean and him for days in a motel room. When he was little the boredom would eat him alive, and Dean would often have to find things to entertain them with. As he got older the boredom was still there, but he learned to deal with it.

Gabriel had mentioned knowing that Castiel visited him in the hospital. So all this time he must be able to sense and maybe even hear his relatives, but he was unable to respond. Unable to talk to them, touch them, or anything. Nothing. They didn't even have any idea that he could hear them.

It made Sam feel a little sick.

He could hardly look Castiel in the eyes at lunch that day. He felt so guilty. Why should Sam be the one able to see and talk to Gabriel when he was Castiels cousin? And a close one at that. It didn't seem fair to him.

On the other hand Sam couldn't help but feel like that this _would_ happen to him, knowing his stupid luck. Coming to Greenwater he thought it was going to be smooth sailing. He wasn't going to be a freak anymore, nothing weird was going to happen that would make people turn away from him. Sam, his Dad, and Dean were all going to live comfy cozy in their new house in their nice neighborhood, and Sam was going to go to a nice school and get good grades and have friends and _be normal_. But this _would_ happen. He couldn't possibly be normal. The universe wouldn't allow that to happen.

"Do you need a ride home today, Sam?" Cas asked, breaking the tense silence between the two.

"Huh? Oh, uh, no. No thanks, Cas."

"Okay." his eyes seemed a duller shade of blue.

"Not afraid of anymore ghosts, Sammy?" teased Balthazar.

He forced a laugh. It came out more fake than he had planned, "No...I'm over that."

"You seemed so hell-bent on the idea on Friday," said Meg, "what happened?"

Sam shrugged, "I guess I just realized how stupid I sounded. Those kind of things are only real in stories, and that's why I like them."

Balthazar and Meg seemed to accept this answer, turning back to their lunches and making small talk with each other and Castiel for the rest of the period.

The bell rang and the students all stared scrambling up from their seats. As Sam went to throw his paper bag into the trash Castiel followed him there, and grabbed him by the arm.

"Sam," he said, "did I do something wrong?"

"What?" Blood rushed to his ears. How could Cas think that? Cas could never do anything wrong-he was the bestest friend he had here at Greenwater. He was so kind to everyone. He was even nice to Gordon and his friends, even though they didn't deserve it. Cas did a lot of things for other people that they didn't deserve. Which is another reason why Sam felt to guilty about the whole ghost-Gabriel thing. Castiel was always putting others before himself, and he deserved this much.

"You seem really weird today. You hardly even spoke to me." Castiels eyes were round with hurt and guilt. An almost perfect imitation of how Sam felt as well.

"Oh, Cas, no!" said Sam, "Cas you didn't do anything wrong."

He seemed to relax a little, releasing his hold on Sams arm. His eyes still showed the guilt. "Then is something the matter? Is it Gordon?"

"No, nothings wrong." he lied. How the hell was he supposed to tell Cas that his cousin was still inside that crummy house? How was he supposed to tell him that Sam was the only one who could see him and they had a conversation about the Winter Solider last night? Cas would probably never speak to him again.

"I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm not really feeling school today..."

"Oh...okay. You sure everything's okay?"

"Yes, Cas. I promise." and even to seal the deal he flashed him a warm, friendly smile. It felt so fake and forced he hoped it didn't look that way. He really didn't want one of his only friends to feel bad. Cas had it rough as it was already.

Cas smiled back though, and seemed to sigh with relief. "Okay. Get to class, Sam. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Cas." He said before they turned their separate ways to their classes. Sam had never felt more filthy.

Jo took notice of this in gym as well.

"Hey," she nearly took his head off with the basketball she threw at him, "whats eating you, Sammy?"

"Nothing."

"Liar, liar," she tisked.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Jo. Can we just play?" he bounced the ball on the ground as though to tempt her, but Jo wasn't having it.

"Girl trouble?"

He rolled his eyes. "No."

"Gordon again?"

"No."

"... _Guy_ trouble?"

Sams ears turned red,"What-Jo, no!"

She held up her hands in defense, "Hey, man, I gotta ask. You never know."

He rubbed his hand over his face as he turned away from her. He's been keeping that secret locked away since the seventh grade. He couldn't even picture telling Dean this, and he told Dean nearly everything. He wasn't about to come out to Jo-a girl that he's only known for a month. He didn't even allow himself to think about what John would say.

It was seventh grade when his hormones were all weird and jumping around in his brain and his dick. He was awkward just like any other thirteen year old, but more so given that he was still jumping from state to state at this time. He remembers it was in Maine. The only time he's been to Maine was for three weeks, and he had his first crush on a guy. He had had a million crushes before on girls-but this was a guy. It was _weird._ He didn't know what it meant to have a crush on a guy. For the first week he thought it could be friendship feelings. But that ended up not being the case.

Since then Sam has had crushes on girls and crushes on guys. He's kissed them both, and has found that he's attracted to them the same way. As far as anyone else is concerned though, Sam likes girls. Period. What they don't know won't hurt them, right?

"Hey," Jo's voice went softer, "Sam, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Wanna sit down for a minute?"

"We've been standing here doing nothing for ten minutes already, I think the coach will have us doing push ups for the rest of the hour if we don't start playing soon." said Sam.

"Okay," she agreed, though her voice had changed to a weird tone, "lets play then."

Sam could tell that Jo was going easy on him. He could tell because he was winning. Neither of them were even working up a sweat yet and he was up by ten.

"Jo," he frowned, "why are you letting me win?"

"What?" she was pretending to be winded, "What're you talkin' about? You're whopping my ass."

"Yeah," he passed her the ball, "because you're letting me. You're not even trying!"

"I am too! I'm just not on my A-game today."

"Jo," he pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, "Jo, you don't have to do this okay. Just because you think somethings wrong with me."

"I _know_ somethings wrong with you." she corrected.

"Fine. Whatever. But nothing is bothering me okay? I'm fine, and I can stand losing a game of basketball against you."

Jo huffed, tossing the ball back into his hands. "Your ball." she said simply.

Jo ended up winning after all. Not because she played against Sam normally, but because Sam stopped trying as well. She was stubborn that way, and even seemed a little mad when their teacher called them to all head to the locker room and she had scored the winning point.

She let the ball bounce on the shiny, hardwood floor. Its smacks echoing throughout the gymnasium. "Good game." was all she said to Sam before following the rest of the girls to the locker room.

Sam sighed,grabbing the basketball and dropping it off in the ball cart on his way to the locker room. Now Jo was mad at him too. Just what he needed: to start losing his friends. It made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He had never really had friends before, and he felt like his social skills were far from average. How he had managed to make friends with Castiel, Balthazar, Meg, and Jo were honestly beyond him. He didn't know how he would make everything okay when he had never had friends before in the first place. He had never experienced fighting with anyone else besides his dad and brother, and making up in the Winchester house usually meant ignoring each other until it blew over and then they'd all watch T.V. together or grab a burger. He didn't think ignoring Cas and Jo was going to work the same way.

He went to his secluded area of the locker room. His stomach feeling sick. He almost didn't want to go visit Gabriel after school, but he had already promised.

XxX

Sam began his slow walk home. His stomach wasn't feeling any better. Maybe he was coming down with something. He couldn't differentiate between his own anxiety or illness. He tried to repress it anyway and continue walking. There were a million other things to think about other than this. 

He was really grateful that Gordon and Azazel had begun to get preoccupied with football, because now that meant that he would be seeing less of them. It also meant that he could walk home in peace. He didn't really believe them when they made that deal about leaving him alone. He figured they would probably go back to their old ways once this season was over.

He started to approach Gabriels house. The screen door still banging in the wind, and the gate was left carelessly open. Something someone else would have noticed without actually noticing. Like, they would glance at the house and think that something was off about it, but they wouldn't be able to put their finger on it. Was that gate always thrown open like that? Or maybe the wind had done it.

Sam knew though. He knew that he had forgotten to close it behind him the day before when he was rushing home.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching him before hurrying through the gate and up the porch. He opened the front door and quickly shut it behind him, praying that none of the neighbors would see.

"Sammy?" Gabriels voice called from upstairs.

"It's _Sam_ ," he corrected, rolling his eyes. "I'm here, Gabriel."

There was a flicker of light and a gush of cold air. Gabriel was then in front of him, making Sam half jump.

"Jesus-" he muttered, "don't do that."

Gabriel merely grinned, unable to hide his joy that his friend had returned. Some of the lights in the house started to glow, and buzz loudly from the energy. "You're back!"

"And you're still real," said Sam, "you're not a figment of my imagination."

"I can't believe you're actually back," Gabriel went on as though Sam hadn't said a word, "I didn't think..."

"You really didn't think I'd come back?" asked Sam, his heart being crushed with another weight of guilt. He couldn't believe that he thought about ditching Gabriel earlier.

"Well...no. Not really."

Sam just shrugged, forcing a smile, "Hey, a promise is a promise man."

Gabriels eyes actually sparked. "Yeah."

"Uh, Gabriel," Sam squinted up at the light bulbs, "do you think you can cool it down a bit?"

"What-oh, sorry. Can't really control that...it just happens."

"Really?"

Sam turned his head back up to the ceiling, watching the lights flicker sarcastically. They were starting to slowly dim down again. He noted that this probably had something to do with Gabriels emotions. He would have to be careful with that. If Gabriel didn't know how to control anything, who knows what he was capable of.

"Yeah...I've been trying to get a hold of them all summer but my 'powers' just kinda come and go as they please. I'm kinda a lame excuse for a ghost, but whateves," he shrugged before quickly changing the subject, "C'mon up to my room, Sasquatch, it's less dusty up there."

Sam was pretty positive that his bedroom was just about as dusty and dirty as the rest of the house was, but he didn't say so.

They walked upstairs to Gabriels room. The house seemed less ominous and scary now that Sam knew what was inside it. He wasn't afraid to turn down any corners, and now that it was daylight the sun peeked in through the curtains and blinds, making the house somewhat lighter. Gabriels room was especially lighter. He didn't have the curtains drawn or any blinds. The sunlight poured into his bedroom, making it easier for Sam to see the kinds of things he had in here now.

"You and my brother have the same taste in music." he said, looking at the Led Zeppelin poster that had been cruelly taped to the wall.

"What?" Gabriel jumped to his bed and landed on it, but the mattress made no squeaks. He didn't even bounce or kick up any dust, "Oh, hey, yeah, Zep rules. That poster was my brothers though. I stole it from him when I was sixteen."

"Oh, what other music do you like then?" Sam walked over to the desk, sitting down in the chair and finding the necklace still sitting in the same spot. He picked it up and played with it between his fingers.

"Hmmm..." Gabriel hummed, staring up at his ceiling, "pretty much anything. Except that stupid stuff my cousin Castiel listens to. Did he make you listen to that the other day?"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, he did."

"God, he drove me crazy listening to that stuff. It was enough to make me want to get my license."

"Wait, you don't have your license and you're eighteen?"

"Hey, I'm seventeen-well...I did miss my birthday...so yeah, technically-okay, shut up! No I don't have my drivers license."

Sam suppressed a laugh.

"It's not my fault okay? I was totally cool driving and all, but apparently the driving instructor thinks I'm a 'hazard' and 'a danger to my town' and some kinda horseshit like that."

Sam wasn't able to hold back his giggles that time.

Gabriel frowned at him, "Well wheres your license, huh?"

"Me?" said Sam, "we've been moving around so much I haven't been able to even practice. My brother won't even let me touch his Impala."

"Excuses, excuses...Hey, whats your brothers name again?"

"Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Dean...Dean...Cas said something about a Dean the other day-"

"Cas? Cas said something about Dean? But-wait-I thought you said Cas couldn't see you?"

"He can't. Not like this anyway. He can see me perfectly well in the hospital, however."

"Oh...yeah..." said Sam quietly, feeling a little awkward now. "So you can hear people in the hospital?"

"Yeah, mostly its just background noise of doctors and stuff. I tune it out until I hear Cas' or Annas voice. Anna doesn't talk much to me, I don't think she believes that I can really hear her. Cas though will talk my ear off until the nurses throw him out."

"And he talked about Dean?"

"Yeah. He talked about you too, before I knew it was you. He talked about your nerdy horror novels and stuff like that. He really likes you. Then he told me about how he went to your house and read that story you wrote about this house."

"Oh-yeah...sorry if that offended you or anything-"

Gabriel sat bolt up right in the bed, staring at Sam with wildness in his eyes, "Hell no! I've always wanted someone to write a story about me!"

"Well-It's not really-"

"Do you have it with you? Can I read it?"

"No, I just turned it in today actually. But I have to start thinking about my next piece already for that class and I was going to write another ghost story..."

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. "Looks like you've come to the right place, Sammich."

"Well, lets see what Mr. Shurley thinks of my first one, okay?" He said, "I've never written anything like it before."

"Hmp. All right. Well anyway," Gabriels head was hanging off the bed, his hair dangling down towards the floor and his feet propped up against the wall, "why did you use to move around so much? What's up with that?"

"My dad's work." said Sam. "I've been to pretty much every state besides Alaska and Hawaii."

Gabriels eyes grew wide, "Wow! Really? I've hardly even stepped foot out of Greenwater! I mean I'm in a hospital out of town right now but other than that-wow I can't believe that. You've really been to every state?"

"Just about," Sam shrugged, smirking a little, "I've seen the worlds largest ball of twine like three times. I went to the Grand Canyon once when I was little."

"Thats awesome. What does your dad do?"

"He's a mechanic."

Gabriels face fell and he flipped around on his stomach. He stared at Sam blank faced, waiting for the punch line. "What?"

"He's a mechanic." Sam repeated, quieter this time. His heart started drumming in his stomach. He wished he could take it all back now. He was actually starting to enjoy himself around Gabriel and now-

Gabriel barked a laugh, "A mechanic? Are you for real? Sammy, you do know that mechanics aren't known for moving around the country right?"

"Yeah, I know," he said.

"Well, hey, whats the matter?"

"Its just...I don't know what my dad's job is okay." He slumped down on the chair at the desk, pushing a pencil around with his finger, "My brother and my dad never told me. Not for real. They tell me he's a mechanic now and I think he really is, but...I don't know what he _used_ to do..."

"Whoa, for real?"

Sam shook his head.

"And you moved around the country like that all this time?"

Sam nodded, "Yep. And they never told me."

"Man...you think your dad's a drug dealer?"

Sam's eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look at Gabriel, "Well now I do!"

Gabriel seemed to wince, "Sorry. The thought has had to cross your mind at least once-I mean what kinda guy keeps his job a secret from his kid?"

"The father of the year, John Winchester thats who." he muttered.

"Hey, maybe he's not a drug dealer. Maybe he's a...maybe he's runnin' from the cops or something-or the mafia!"

Sam frowned at him, "That makes me feel _loads_ better, Gabriel."

" _Ehhh_ , sorry, I'm really bad at this. Umm hey, how about we talk about me now! My mom was a lawyer and my dad was a pastor. They always told me if I didn't get my act together I was going to end up as a janitor."

"They said that?"

"Yep."

"But why?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, "They couldn't have really said that-how could they-?"

"My older brother was their golden boy," Gabriel cut him of, "and he couldn't ever do anything wrong. But me? I was their little mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at me, Sam," Gabriel sat up, holding out his arms to display himself, "do I look like the son of a lawyer and a pastor? The younger brother of Lucifer-the coolest kid to go to Greenwater High School and electrical engineer?"

Sam said nothing.

He fell back on the bed. "I didn't think so."

"What did-what do you want to be?"

"A musician." he said simply. Gabriel stared down at his fingers instead of meeting Sams eyes. "I wanted to play guitar. It's the only thing I know I'm good at."

"I'm sure that's not true." said Sam.

Gabriel smiled faintly up at him. "Whatever, kid. Thanks, but you don't know me."

Sam bit his cheek. This was true. He knew hardly anything about Gabriel. All he knew was that he was in a coma and that his cousin was one of his only friends in this place. Gabriel was an enigma to him still. He supposed that they'll get to know each other over time. Depending on how long Gabriel was in a coma...

 _Oh god,_ Sam suddenly thought, _but what if he never wakes up? What then?_

"I'm assuming you want to be a writer." Gabriel broke the heavy silence, and the terrible thoughts running through Sam's head.

"Yeah," Sam went back to fiddling with the pencil, "yeah I really do. Dean and my dad think that this is all a phase though. The horror writing thing. I mean I've always liked writing, but I really enjoy writing the scary stuff you know? I don't know I just started really getting into it and they're both kinda freaked out by it. They think somethings wrong with me...and it wouldn't be the first time they've thought that either."

Gabriel sighed, flopping on his pillows. It was a strange sight to see because although he was laying on them there were no creases or wrinkles in them. No sign of him actually being on that bed.

"Yeah. My family thought I was weird too."

"Just 'cause you're different from them right? Your way of thinking...your morals and views, your dreams and all that stuff. It was all different from them. Right?"

Gabriel looked at him, amber eyes glowing like melted chocolate. "Yeah."

Sam chewed on his lip, smiling a little. He nodded down at the pencil in his hand. There was a familiar trickle of warmth starting to fill his chest. A feeling he hadn't felt in quite a while. He knew this feeling a little too well though, and while it was comforting it scared him a little too.

Gabriel just grinned back wickedly. A grin that had Sam holding his breath.

"What a couple of misfits." he said.

XxX

He stayed at Gabriels house until he knew Dean was due back from work.

"So soon?" Gabriel whined when Sam announced he was leaving.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised, slinging his bag back over his shoulder, "but I really gotta get going now. I have homework and Dean'll be hounding me when he see's that I haven't started it yet."

Gabriel sighed loudly, rolling over in his bed to face the wall. "Fine. Guess I'll just stay here then. All alone. No one to talk to but myself. Maybe Cas'll visit the hospital today maybe not. Who knows."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't be like that," he said, "I really gotta get home, Gabriel. I promise I'll be back tomorrow okay?"

Gabriel didn't respond. Pretending to pout.

"Gabriel," Sam took a step towards him, "don't be like that...I-I mean if you're really so lonely why don't you just come home with me?"

He rolled back over, looking up at Sam with round and dispirited eyes, "Thanks for the offer Sammy, but no can do."

"Why-?" Sam cut himself off, realizing his blunder. "Oh." He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Gabriels feet. "You can't leave this place. Can you?"

Gabriel shook his head.

Sam looked away. He eyed the dirty laundry on the floor instead. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." said Gabriel. His voice had suddenly lost the happy-go-lucky tone.

"You tried before?"

"Yep. A few times." he popped the 'p' on yep, going silent for a beat. Sam tore his eyes away from the laundry to watch him. His eyes were off and reminiscent. Crestfallen. Lonely.

Sam just dug his fingernails into the quilt he was sitting on. His heart feeling weak in his chest. The warmth had been replaced with a melancholy coldness. He wasn't sure if it was himself, or if it was Gabriel unconsciously making him feel this way.

Gabriel continued. "I just...I woke up here. In my bed. The house was empty. Quiet. The last thing I remembered was the accident. I ran all over looking for my parents and my brother. I couldn't find them anywhere. The house was a dump. It looked like someone had broke in and took all the crap that wasn't mine. Then I ran outside and saw some people walking down the street. They jumped when the front door flew open and I tried shouting for them to help me, but they...they just stared back at me. Right through me. I ran out the gate but then...I was back in my bedroom. I was scared as hell, Sam. I tried running out there again when I started hearing the doctors and Cas and Anna talking to me. I just ended up back here. Every time."

He swallowed dryly. Sam knew what it felt like to feel alone, but never _this_ alone. The knot in his stomach was returning. He couldn't imagine...

All Sam could think of doing was pat the back of Gabriels leg softly, reassuringly. It was an odd feeling. He could touch Gabriel, but he didn't feel solid. It was like he was touching cold static almost. Gabriel flinched at the touch.

"I'm sorry." he said. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel."

He just shifted in the bed, rolling his shoulder to brush it off.

"I'll be back tomorrow. I promise. Right after school. It's not that long I swear."

"Yeah..." said Gabriel, "okay."

Sam got up slowly. He didn't want to leave him like this, but he didn't really have a choice. Dean was going to be home any minute now. It was almost time for dinner and Sam didn't have any homework done yet.

Wrapping his hand around his backpack strap tightly, he stared helplessly at Gabriels ghostly body laying on the mattress. He really wished that there was something, anything he could do more for him. But he couldn't think of anything. All he could do was give Gabriel company for a few hours a day to keep his mind off the fact that he's in a coma.

With his heart heavy and his stomach not feeling any better than it had been a few hours ago, he turned on his heel and left the darkening house. It was like someone had flipped the light switch on the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updating--I wanted to get my first fic (Tongue Tied) done before continuing with this one. So now I can put all my focus into this fic! But then i had computer problems and I still do :/ currently at the library to upload this lol but here it is! Hope it was worth the wait! I have no idea when the next chapter will be around :/ but hey, thanks for reading and being so patient!!! :D


	8. The Brain That Wouldn't Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shiver crawled up his spine, making him fold into himself a bit, as though to escape from it. The cold was still there though. Even worse, the falling feeling had returned. 
> 
> When he spoke his breath fogged like a comic strip thought bubble.
> 
> "Gabriel..." he called out softly, "Gabriel I'm here."

It was around three in the morning when Sam got up from bed and ran to the bathroom. His dinner making a second appearance.

The sound of his puke hitting the cold basin filled the sleeping house. His naked footsteps and the bang the bathroom door made when he threw it open was enough to wake Dean and his dad. They were relatively light sleepers anyway.

"Whats going on-whats the matter?" Johns voice was like thunder and nearly rattled the house. "What the hell was that?"

"Sam?" came Dean from his bedroom next door. He stood staring at Sams dark and empty bedroom until he heard the sounds of heaving coming from the bathroom.

Dean flicked on the light. "Ah, jeez, Sammy."

"Whats wrong?" John hurried over, his eyes wild and a baseball bat in his hand.

Sam pressed his cheek against the toilet, his eyes burning when he closed them. Everything was hot and uncomfortable except for this toilet. He sniffed to keep the snot from running out of his nose.

"Oh, Sam," John sighed, rubbing the spot between his eyes, "I'll get you some water and medicine."

"Okay." said Sam weakly.

"Do I need to bring out Mr. Moose and the soft rock station to calm you down?" Dean teased from the doorway, his shoulder pressed against the wall, "worked like a charm when you were little."

Sam tried to laugh, but his stomach only tensed up again. The taste of bile burned the back of his throat.

"Not five anymore, Dean." he said.

"If the soft rock station still works then Mr. Moose still works too, I'll dig him out of your closet. Need anything else?"

"I don't need a stuffed animal-" he cut himself off when he could feel like puke making it's unwelcome return. He leaned into the toilet again.

"Need me to hold your hair back, princess?"

Sam reached for the handle. His hands felt weak and noodle-y as they fumbled to flush.

"I need you to stop making smart ass comments."

"Bitch."

"Ugh, jerk." Sams nose felt like it was running acid.

Their dad then returned with the glass of water. He crouched down next to his son and handed it to him, watching carefully as Sam drank it.

"Couldn't find any flu medicine. Must of gotten lost in the move, but I can pick some up," he pressed his palm against Sams forehead to feel for a fever, and then combed his fingers through his shaggy hair, ruffling it. "You all right?"

Sam nodded.

"I'll call the school first thing in the morning," he said, "go back to bed for now."

"No, no," said Sam, sitting back up and ignoring the dizzy spell, "don't call the school. I can go. I'll be better."

"Sam you're throwing up. You're not going."

"I'll sleep it off."

"Samuel-"

"I'll be fine, Dad, I feel better already."

John and Dean shared a look. John seemed like he excepted Dean to say something to convince his brother to stay home, as though Dean would be a better influence than his own father. Dean just rolled his eyes.

"You're crazy if you think you're going to school like that," he said, "they'll send you back home when you step in the door."

"I've got tests tomorrow-"

"You can make them up," said John, patting Sams warm cheek softly, "you'll live if you miss one day. You can have the computer for the day and watch movies on it if you want. But I'll be damned if you're going to school today."

He didn't actually have any tests tomorrow. But staying home sick meant that Dean would be staying home, watching him like a hawk. Which meant that he would probably have only a small window to see Gabriel again, if at all. He needed to see him again. He could hardly sleep after how he had left him last time.

Sam sighed, feeling exhausted. He wasn't actually feeling any better, but he was positive he would once he went back to sleep.

"Okay," he said caved, only to make his dad and Dean happy, "but if I feel better in the morning-"

"Get your ass to bed, Sammy." said John.

XxX

Sam woke up again when it was time to go to school, but instead of getting dressed and running to the kitchen, he was running back to the bathroom.

John had already left for work and called the school to let them know Sam wasn't coming in today. So that left Dean to be woken up by the sound of his brother upchucking what was left in his stomach into the toilet.

Dean tisked at him from the doorway.

"Oh, yeah, you're obviously feeling so much better."

"Shut up, jerk." Sam spat into the toilet before flushing it.

His heart sort of clenched when he started to wonder if he'd be able to see Gabriel at all. He had to feel better soon. He had to.

XxX

Dean stayed home from work, even though Sam promised he'd be fine by himself. Dean just couldn't fight off those motherly instincts he was born with. He brought in their dads laptop and Sams stack of movies. He also set a bucket beside the bed 'just in case'. He brought Sam endless amounts of water because "I don't want you passing out on me people get dehydrated from throwing up you know, Sammy."

Really, it just made Sam have to pee a lot.

He even dug out Mr. Moose from the piles of boxes that John had stashed back in the shed in their backyard. He had told Sam to stay out of it, but if it was only childhood toys that were hidden back there Sam didn't know why his brother was allowed and he wasn't. Not that he really cared if his toys were back there anyway. He was too old for that...

But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't felt a warm burst of nostalgia in his heart when he saw the raggedy thing in Deans hands. Dean had washed him and stuck him in the dryer because he was so dusty. He was missing an eye, but he was still good old Mr. Moosie.

Dean had dangled the toy teasingly over Sams head as his little brother rolled his eyes.

"Remember you used to drag this thing around everywhere?" he said, a stupid grin plastered on his face, "And when you'd piss me off I used to hide him from you and you'd cry until I gave him back."

"Yeah, I remember. You were such a jerk."

"God, you loved the hell out of this thing. You sure you don't want to hold onto him? For old times sake? I'm sure he misses you."

"It's a toy, Dean," said Sam pointedly, "it doesn't have feelings."

Dean stuck out his bottom lip, simultaneously digging his finger into the back of Mr. Mooses neck to make him hang his head, crestfallen. As though Sam had hurt his feelings.

Dean quickly got bored with teasing his brother and when he left the room he sat the stuffed animal carelessly at the edge of Sams bed. Which, really, that was no place for Mr. Moose.

So, Sam shamelessly brought his old friend back up to sit with him, and somehow he ended up in the crook of his arm with Sams nose buried in his fur and antlers. Mr. Moose had just been so warm and soft...it was like hugging someone you hadn't seen for months.

Dean didn't even say anything. Not even when he walked in to see his gigantic baby brother cuddling the toy.

Sam did as Dean and John asked and stayed in bed all day. He watched his horror movies until he crashed and when he woke up he either threw up or played another movie.

He still thought about Gabriel. He couldn't imagine sneaking out of the house like this and making it over to his house. There was no way for him to tell him that he was sick today, and he had been so unhappy yesterday when Sam left. Gabriel was going to be crushed.

He started nodding off again. He was in the middle of Re-Animator and was determined to watch it all the way through. But his eyelids burned every time he blinked, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep them open. Mr. Moose sat by his side, his one beady black eye watching the movie attentively.

He hadn't thrown up in a while, he thought, he hoped that meant he was getting better.

 _Maybe I'll be able to see Gabriel after all..._ his eyelids fluttered shut and the laptop battery beeped, but he couldn't find the energy to lean over and plug the charger in.

He hoped Gabriel would be all right.

XxX

He woke up around dinnertime.

The laptop was dead and cold in his lap, and Mr. Moose was still watching it silently by Sams side.

He turned to look out the window and saw that the sun was just starting to set. The smells of the dinner Dean was cooking was making its way from the kitchen and through the cracks of Sams bedroom door.

His stomach growled. It didn't churn uncomfortably at the thought of eating, or lurch when he sat up. He felt a little dizzy, a bit empty and weak, but he didn't feel like throwing up. He just wanted to eat something.

He rolled out of bed, his head feeling like an elephant was sitting on him.

He shuffled into the kitchen to see Dean making breakfast for dinner.

His brother turned to look over his shoulder when he heard Sam sniff, his eyes blowing wide with surprise.

"Sammy," he said, "I was starting to think you were gonna sleep through the night."

"I'm hungry." said Sam, his tongue clicking to the roof of his dry mouth.

"You sure?"

"I feel better now," he promised, "I'm really hungry."

"Well, just eat some toast for now, and if you don't puke it up I'll give you some eggs."

Dean put two slices of bread into the toaster while Sam sat at the kitchen table, looking out the window and seeing the navy blue sky slowly swallowing the pink and purple.

When the toast popped up Dean spread butter over it and set it on a napkin in front of Sam, along with another glass of water.

"Cas came by today when you were asleep."

"He did?" Sam said, mid-chew.

"Yeah," said Dean, turning back to the stove to stir the eggs around with a fork, "he was really worried about you not showin' up to school today. Your friend is pretty dorky, Sammy. He's a weird guy."

"Yeah I know. He's sweet though."

"Yeah I know. That's good. I'm glad you're finally making a few friends, Sam."

"Me too."

He began eating the second piece of toast, "What did Cas say?"

"He just wanted to make sure you were all right," Dean rolled his shoulder, "he said you had been acting weird yesterday. I gave him your phone number so he could text you later and he wouldn't have to spend all day worrying about you. I think he has a crush on you, Sammy."

Dean turned to give Sam a mischievous grin and a wink. Sam just shot him a dry, chewing on his toast slowly.

"I'm teasing, I'm teasing," Dean defended, "I think you two are cute."

"Stop."

Deans joker grin never left his face, but the teasing did stop. He simply turned back to his cooking and let Sam eat in peace. But Sam had that sick feeling in his stomach that wasn't the flu symptoms returning. He couldn't really finish his toast now, thinking about the hidden truth there was in Deans joking.

He didn't like Cas though, that part was true. He didn't like him like that. But he had of course liked others.

He was guilty of staring at boys through the window while sitting in the backseat of the Impala when the family drove through small beach towns looking for motels. Their long, tangled hair slicked back behind their ears and their noses sun-kissed. He had felt his heart flutter when the nice blond-haired coffee boy handed him the paper cup and smiled, their hands brushing together for a split second. He had written a love story in his head the night he had met the kind dog-walker in Mississippi. Sam had been fifteen, and the boy seventeen. He had ruffly golden-brown hair like a golden retriever, and dimples that carved craters into Sams heart. His eyes were dark like hot chocolate, and his mouth was wet and pink like a puppies nose.

They could have talked about dogs for hours, if the motel hadn't been so close to the arcade. Sam didn't even know his name.

He felt so dirty just then. He wanted to scrub himself until he was clean and could think right, but the filth was under his skin and he wasn't going to get it off. He could try a million times and it wasn't ever going to go away.

And now there was Gabriel.

He swallowed hard when his name popped into his head.

He couldn't help thinking about that warmth he had felt yesterday when he was with Gabriel. He couldn't help but think about how he hadn't really wanted to leave either, and how it tore him up to not visit him on time today. That warmth was the same tickle he had felt in his chest when he met the dog-walker, and when he had smiled at the barista, and when he had kissed Brady Tyson under the bleachers at a football game his freshman year.

Sam hardly noticed how quiet the house seemed, because his brain had been reeling. Dean took notice, though, of course. Dean noticed everything.

"What's wrong?" he asked, the grin had vanished.

"Nothing," he said. It was like a routine now. The word came so easily out of his mouth he didn't even have to force it. Even if he wanted to tell Dean the truth, even for a split second, the word would come out anyways.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just exhausted."

"Why don't you just go lay back down," said Dean, pointing to Sams bedroom with his fork, "if you keep that toast down I'll give you something else to eat."

"Okay." said Sam flatly, getting up from his chair and sluggishly making his way back to his bedroom.

He shut the door and locked it.

He needed to go see Gabriel.

XxX

He bundled himself up in a hoodie and sweatpants before climbing out of the bedroom window. The cold air bit at his hot face, but he'd survive. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and pulled the hood up over his face as he walked down the sidewalk to Rosa Avenue.

The neighborhood was dead silent. October had finally come and it was like it had turned Greenwater into a ghost-town overnight. There were no kids out riding their bikes in the cool night air, or running around with their dogs yapping at their heels. Not even an occasional car blaring the Top 40 hits on the radio passed by.

The houses were dark and sleeping. Only Sam was out tonight.

He reached the house. The screen door was creaking open and shut again with the wind, and there was something off about it when Sam started walking up the porch steps. It seemed darker. Colder.

When Sam stepped inside the house it was ice cold.

A shiver crawled up his spine, making him fold into himself a bit, as though to escape from it. The cold was still there though. Even worse, the falling feeling had returned. It did not help settle the toast in his weak stomach.

When he spoke his breath fogged like a comic strip thought bubble.

"Gabriel..." he called out softly, "Gabriel I'm here."

The chandelier chimed above him.

He edged closer to the staircase, his teeth chattering.

"Gabe? Gabe I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. I was sick."

He watched the curtains billow out out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment he thought he saw someone-someone who didn't look like Gabriel-standing there. He jumped, spinning on his heel and stumbling back, almost tripping over the first stair and falling on his ass. He was able to catch himself though.

His heart was thumping in his chest now, and he was worried he might get sick again all over the floor.

"Gabriel," he said, almost begging, "please come out, Gabriel. Just let me explain, okay? I didn't forget about you I swear!"

A door upstairs slammed against a wall, the sound echoing around the house like a shotgun as the temperature only dropped more.

 _Now this is just childish,_ he thought _._

He began to walk up the stairs, gripping the railing even though his fingers were so numb from the cold he thought they were going to fall off. He continued speaking though chattering teeth, "G-Gabriel," he said, "G-G-Gabe! C-c-cut it out! I'm-I'm already s-s-s-sick!"

Still no response from the ghost.

So Sam continued on up the staircase, his ears burning and his nose ready to run with snot down his face. He grumbled the entire way to Gabriels bedroom, seeing that it had been his door that had been thrown open.

When he came into the doorway, Gabriel was in the same position as he had left him yesterday. Like he hadn't even moved an inch. He was eerily still. Frozen in time.

It took a moment for Sam to find his breath and talk, "Gabriel."

His head picked up instantly. It was like Sam had just pushed the on button.

The cold melted away, thawing Sams fingers and toes. The falling feeling in the pit of his stomach went away with it.

"Sammy!" he cheered, leaping from his bead and gracefully landing on his feet. "Where have you been?"

Sam frowned at him, not out of annoyance, but confusion, "Didn't you hear me yelling at you downstairs?"

Gabriel blinked, the smile fleeing his face, "What?"

"It was freezing in here," he said, "and I was telling you to knock it off. Didn't you hear me come in?"

"Oh...no..." said Gabriel, "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't. I didn't even know I was doing that."

"That's...weird..." said Sam slowly.

Gabriel was quick to change the subject, "Well, where have you been all day? I waited forever! I thought something happened to you."

"I had the flu. I feel better now though."

"And you came out here to see little old me?" Gabriel splayed his fingers over his heart, pretending to blush, "Sammy you're too sweet."

"I felt bad," he confessed, "I didn't want you to think I abandoned you or anything."

Again, Gabriels smile vanished. His mood dropping like a pin.

"I didn't think that," he said flatly, "I figured something happened. Something came up...or whatever. I didn't even see your brothers car go by this morning."

"Yeah, he stayed home with me today. I'm sorry you were alone all day."

Gabriel just shrugged, scrunching up his face for comedic affect, and saying, " _Pffft_ , I've been alone for months now. I handled it just fine."

Sam tried to smile, "I'm sure you did."

"Well, now that you're here," said Gabriel, his eyes flicking from deep dark root-beer to golden leaves as he turned to face the window were the little sunlight that was left shined through, "what do you want to do today?"

"Take a nap," said Sam.

Gabriel looked back to him, giving him a confused look until a wave of guilt seemed to come over him when he remembered. "Oh." he said.

"You still not feeling good?"

"Better. But not good." confessed Sam.

"You probably don't want to stay here long then," said Gabriel, "you shouldn't have even come over tonight."

"I had to," said Sam, inching towards Gabriel and trying his best to keep his heart from pounding abnormally fast in his chest, "I couldn't-uh- I couldn't stop-"

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head towards his shoulder, his mouth open just enough to make looking at him hard for Sam to think straight. Sam suddenly felt hot and embarrassed all over. _I couldn't stop thinking about you_ suddenly sounded like the stupidest thing Sam could ever say.

He swallowed his words and clumsily sputtered out, "I couldn't stop feeling guilty about leaving you all alone up here."

Gabriels face relaxed a little, but he rolled his eyes.

"Kiddo," he said, "I'm fine by myself. Really. I've spent half my life by myself and I got along just fine. I mean, look at me, do I look like I need a babysitter?" He held out his arms to present himself, bracelets dangling off his tiny wrists but not making any noise when they hit each other.

"No," said Sam slowly, "but you're in a coma."

Gabriels arms dropped to his sides as he huffed, "Yes, that is pretty annoying."

"...What do you mean by half your life? I thought you've only been in a coma for a few months?"

"Since April actually. But I was talking about how _wonderful_ my family is-was...I shouldn't tell you a story now, you should be getting back home."

"No, I'm fine," Sam insisted, making himself at home and sitting on Gabriels bed. The bed springs creaked like crickets. "Tell me all about it."

"Fine," Gabriel rolled his eyes again, but sat down right next to Sam on the bed. There were no crickets this time. "You see...my family was not only really good at lawyer-ing, and priest-ing, or being big douches, they were really good at _acting_. They were good at acting like we were good. Like we were on a poster for the best families in America. They might have been, if I hadn't been such an issue. They treated me like I was their secret deformed monster baby that had to be locked away in the attic and only be fed raw fish. They left me alone a lot. For a day, for weekends, for weeks. Sometimes they'd leave my brother too, but he'd always be dicking around elsewhere."

"Plus, I ran away when I was fourteen. Not very far might I add, because I was stupid and didn't even know where I was going. I went to the friggen lake and camped out there for a few nights until the police found me and took me home. My parents made a huge ordeal out of it. And there was this part of me that was really hoping that when I came back they'd realize what asshats they'd been you know...and they'd love me more. But if anything...I think they just hated me more after that."

Gabriels eyes were melancholy, but he hardly sounded sad about it. More like he was _used_ to it.

Sams chest felt as tight as a snare drum. He wished that there was some way for Gabriel to get out of this house. He was forced to stay in a place were his family deserted him not just once, but a million other times. If there was anything Sam wanted to do it was to make Gabriel feel like he wasn't alone.

He swallowed hard before talking, "My dad left me and Dean alone a lot too," he said, making Gabriel flick his eyes over to him, "Like everyday, whenever we weren't driving somewhere. Sometimes Dean would have to go with him, but that wasn't until I was a little older. The first time I was left alone I was ten and we were in Montana in some shady motel. They were gone for hours..."

"I'm sorry," said Gabriel softly, turning back to his knees, "at least I had Cas and Anna and my aunt and uncle..."

"Yeah. I didn't really have anyone..."

Then Gabriels brown eyes looked back into Sams, and he smiled a little. It made Sams heart leap into his throat and his ears feel hot.

"We've got each other now though, right, Sammich?"

"Yeah-yeah, right."

"You should go home now. It's getting dark."

Sam looked up to the window, he hadn't even realized the sun had gone down. "Oh, shit," he sighed, thinking about how Dean must be pounding on his bedroom door at home with a plate full of scrambled eggs and more toast. "Yeah, I better go. I'll see you tomorrow, Gabriel."

"Same place, same time." Gabriel snapped his fingers, winking.

Sam smiled, giving a small wave before leaving the bedroom and heading down the stairs to the front door. He had felt better than he had the past two days.


	9. The Mystery of Mr. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He now looked down at the new picture in his hand. Younger Gabriel and Castiel decorating a Christmas tree together. Gabriel was eating the popcorn off the thread that was supposed to decorate the tree. Castiel didn't seem to notice, and was attempting to wrap it around the tree anyway, as his cousin trailed behind him like a fish stuck on a line.  
> "You all right?" asked Gabriel.  
> "What?" Sam sputtered, "Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"  
> "You look like you're blushing."  
> "I'm not! It's just a bit warm in here, He said, swallowing, "Why are you always eating something in these pictures?"  
> "I like food, bite me."

The following two weeks passed by uneventfully.

When he came back the day after the flu, Jo seemed to had forgotten about their little spat from before and immediately came running up to him in the gym, demanding to know where he had been and his excuse for deserting her and leaving her partner-less for an entire day. After telling Jo he had been sick she seemed a bit more sympathetic, but not all that much. She still swamped him in basketball again.

Sam and Gabriel fell into an after school and weekend routine. Sam would come over at the same time everyday. Gabriel would meet him at the door, sometimes planning on pranking him and other times not. They usually hung out in Gabriels bedroom. Sam hadn't even seen the rest of the house besides that bright little space Gabriel called his own. His curiosity often picked at his mind, especially when he started running out of questions to ask. He tried his best to avoid asking about family, the past, anything that could potentially trigger a meltdown. Sam didn't really want to see him become cold again. But besides this, Gabriel could still manage to ramble on and on without having to take a breath. He could talk about anything.

Sam was happy to listen. While also making sure to keep his feelings in check. Some days were harder than others. The ones when Gabriel would laugh about something Sam said, or the days when he'd read over Sams stories with such focus and interest. He looked up at him with that child-like wonder in his eyes. "This is good, Sam," he told him, "this is really good."

Whether Gabriel noticed him blushing he didn't know, but he hid behind his sweatshirt anyway, muttering a thank you.  
It was difficult, just like it always had been. It's not like he's ever had anyone to talk to about it before, so he was more than used to it.  
Gabriel kept him up at night sometimes. Sam would think about his smile and his twinkling eyes that looked like hot chocolate, and he would bury his face into his pillow. His eyes were the most alive thing about him. He'd hide his smile behind his hands--even though he was completely alone in the dark--every time he thought about that fine golden brown hair falling over his face as he read Sams stories over and over again. He'd think about their talks, and how smart and interesting Gabriel was, and he couldn't wait to talk to him even more the next day. He'd make a list of things he'd want to ask Gabriel in his mind as he fell asleep, but then he'd forget all about them as soon as he stepped through the door.

The sweet, cute, and smart side of Gabriel weren't the only things to keep him up at night, however. He couldn't stop the thoughts of Gabriels uncontrollable ghost powers scaring him slightly. Gabriels mood seemed to be connected with the powers, and depending on how intense his feelings got, the powers could also be quite intense.  
Nothing bad had happened really, not since the last time when Gabriel seemed to be in another place and couldn't hear Sam coming in. The lights would sometimes flicker when Gabriel got too excited, but other than that everything was quite calm.

Still, Sam was always afraid of pushing the wrong buttons for some reason.

Another reason he couldn't sleep at night were the dreadful thoughts that said, would he even like me back? Some nights were maybes. Other nights were flat out no's. Neither of them had brought up the subject of past relationships, so Sam had no idea what exactly Gabriel looked for in a partner, not to mention he didn't know if Gabriel liked guys.  
Sam longed for answers, but he wasn't brave enough for the truth. Not yet.

The other thing was Cas. He still felt guilty about Cas, and the words were always dancing on the tip of Sams tongue every time he saw the guy. He wanted to tell him about Gabriel all the time, but he couldn't risk Cas never talking to him again either.

Thats the last thing Sam needed. Losing all his friends he had made here and being labeled as Sam Winchester the Freak.  
Another thing that kept him up at night was the horrible dread of Gabriel not remembering him if--when. When he wakes up. He hadn't talked to him about it yet, but the thought was always there. In the middle of a conversation it would pop back into his head like an unwanted ad.  
Will he even remember this?  
And then suddenly Sam is not having as good a time as he would like to. Instead he's holding his stomach that feels more like a black hole with his heart being sucked into it, and his brain reeling with all the memories he'd have to keep to himself forever and ever when Gabriel wakes up and doesn't even recognize him. He'd have to keep it all to himself. What was a memory worth if the person you shared it with can't even remember who you are?

Part of him secretly wished Gabriel wouldn't wake up.

The thought made him want to throw up. He was a horrible person for thinking that, he knew it. It wouldn't be fair.

Of course who could forget about the ultimate question; how did Gabriel end up in a coma anyway?

Sam had almost been visiting for a month now, and Gabriel was still an enigma to him.

He sat at his usual spot at Gabriels desk, looking outside at the dead leaves scattering the sidewalk. He was lost in thought again. Thinking about potentially loosing Gabriel when he woke up, and wondering if he should just confess if he'll just forget about it anyway. His fingernails had been bitten down from the worry and anxiety of thinking too much lately.

Gabriel laid on his bed with his feet kicked up on the headboard. They had been sitting in silence for quite some time now, and he was going to make his boredom be known.  
He sighed heavily, turning his head to look at Sam. Sam made no reaction. He only stared out the window.

Gabriel frowned.

He sighed more dramatically, hoping this would get Sam. Still nothing.

He now flipped over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. He cleared his throat before sighing out, "Saaaaaaammmmmmmm,"

"Hm, what?" He finally turned away from the window, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Gabriel frowned again, "Why are you so quiet today? I'm bored, Sammy."

Sam shrugged, "Sorry. I don't know what to talk about I guess."

Gabriel blew a raspberry. "Liar. Is it those bullies again?"

Sam rolled his shoulder and gazed out the window again. It wasn't about Gordon, but he could let Gabriel think so.

"Why do you let them pick on you?" he continued, "You're so much bigger than them, you could probably take both of them down in one swing!"

"I don't want to cause trouble."

"You won't! You'd be doing the town a giant favor, trust me, kiddo."

Sam wanted to change the subject. So he ended up saying the first thing that came to his mind, which also happened to be the first on his list of questions he had been meaning to ask.

"How come we don't ever leave your bedroom?"

Gabriel merely stared back at him. The question had caught him off guard just as much as it had Sam, even though he had been the one to ask it. He was definitely wishing he could take it back now.

He finally replied, slowly, and quite confused, "I didn't know you want to?"

"I've just--" Sam said awkwardly, "I've just--I've never seen the rest of your house. I don't know. I didn't know if it was something you were sensitive about or anything. We can stay in here if you want to I really don't care."

Gabriel seemed even more confused. "Why would I be upset over something like that?"

Sam shrugged, dipping his chin into the neck of his sweatshirt, "I don't know. Just didn't want to say the wrong thing."

"Well, it'll take a hell'ova lot more than that to hurt my feelings, string bean. Wanna go look at some embarrassing baby pictures?"

Sam looked over his shoulder, half-smiling.

Gabriel had gotten off the bed, and was now standing there on the carpet with one eyebrow raised. His palms faced toward the ceiling in a half shrug, and his grin was playful. Almost innocent.

This wasn't helping Sam deal with his crush, but right now he didn't really care. He could stare at Gabriel all day.

"It doesn't matter to me." he said.

"I know that look," Gabriel snapped his fingers, his innocent smile turning into a shit-eating grin in a blink, "you totally want to see my naked baby pictures. I don't blame you, I have a pretty cute butt."

Sam rolled his eyes. The next thing he knew Gabriel was shaking his shoulders and tugging on his arm to get him out of the desk chair.  
"C'mon," he taunted, "I know you want to!"

With a thin smile Sam got up out of the chair and followed Gabriel out of the warm bedroom.

"So, you want the tour," asked Gabriel, "or should I dig out the old photo albums?"

"We don't have to do either," said Sam, "if you...if you don't want to talk about your past..."

Gabriel spun on his heel like he was a wind-up ballerina in a music box. He looked at Sam, his expression half confused and half insulted.  
"What do you mean?"

Sam scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "I--um...I mean like it seems like if you're not comfortable talking about it it's fine. You made it pretty clear before that you didn't have the best family, and if you don't want to talk about what happened in this house you don't have to."

Gabriels eyes turned softer, gentler, looking like the burnt out bark of logs sitting in a fireplace.

"If I don't talk about the past, Sam, I'm going to run out of things to talk about eventually," he said, "what do you want to talk about? 'Guess what I found a spider in my bedroom today, I'm pretty sure its the same one I saw from June. Isn't that exciting?"

Sam chuckled, smiling shyly back at him, "Yeah, I get it. I just didn't want to...trigger anything..."

"You're not gonna trigger anything, Sammich," he said, "I'm tougher than I look, you know? Now, c'mon, the photo albums are in the living room."  
With a hop, skip, and a jump, Gabriel was sliding down the staircase railing on the seat of his pants, sticking up his arms like a surfer riding the waves.

Sam took the normal way down and used the stairs.

Gabriel lead him into what used to be the living room. There was a stain on the wallpaper were their television once sat, and a crusty old couch still sat in the middle of the dusty floor.

"Don't sit there," Gabriel warned him, "I think some mice nested in there."

Sam gave the couch a grimace before scampering over to Gabriels side like the family of mice living in it were about to leap out and bite his ankles. Gabriel was squatting near a small table and struggling to get a grasp on the handle to open the compartment door.

Sam crouched down next to him.

"I can do it," Gabriel muttered bitterly, "I know I can--I've done it before! If I just--" his fingers reached for the handle, but it was like he missed it entirely. His hand fell back on his knee, bundling itself up into a frustrated fist. "Dammit!"

"Do you want--?"

"I can do it!" Gabriel snapped, a brush of cold air sank it's teeth into Sams nose, and he fell back on his ass, gazing at Gabriel, who didn't seem to have the slightest idea, "I've done it before--If I just concentrate I can do it! I can touch things if I really think about it!"

Sams throat felt dry and his hands went cold as he thought about back in the bedroom. Gabriel had touched him a number of times, and Sam had been able to do the same. He hadn't really thought about it before he supposed, but now...

"You're able to touch me, Gabe." he said.

Gabriels face relaxed, turned crestfallen even. He fell back on his bottom, sitting criss-cross-applesauce.  
"Yeah," he bit, "you're different. I don't know why."

The cold left him, and the room went back to a moderate temperature. Gabriel rubbed his thumbs across his knuckles slowly, giving the table a sharp glare.  
"I can get it for you." Sam told him softly.

"Okay."

Sam reached forward and opened the compartment door. A pile of boxes were sitting inside, neatly stacked on top of one another. He pulled them out one by one and set them on the floor in between himself and Gabriel.

"They left these behind," Gabe told him, "I don't know why. I guess they just wanted to start fresh, and that meant leaving any evidence of me behind."

Sam opened the lid of one shoe box, and picked up the first photograph. A baby sleeping soundly while a toddlers chubby hand reached for his tiny fingers.

"I know right," Gabriel said over his shoulder, "I was smoking hot even fresh out of the womb."

Sam snorted a laugh and set the picture down gently, going in for the next one.

As he leafed through the piles of photographs, Gabriel would point at it and tell a story. He pointed out his brother, his parents, his aunt and uncles, etc. It felt kind of like Sam was meeting his family.

"I was probably eight years old here," he pointed to a picture of his brother Luce slinging a quite aggressive arm around little Gabriels shoulder. Gabriel was shoving candy into his mouth, his teeth stained with chocolate as he laughed, struggling to get out of his brothers grasp. He was dressed as Han Solo, and Luce was in a black cape. "It was Halloween. Luce went as the killer from Scream that year. He had that mask that would make fake blood swim around the inside of the mask if you squeezed this thing," he made a squeezing gesture with his fist, "scared the shit out of me. He chased me around the house with that thing for two weeks."

Sam laughed, setting the picture in the pile to the side of him and going to the next one. "You went as Han Solo? Didn't peg you for a Star Wars fan."

Gabriel looked at him with a fake angry frown, "Uh, duh! Are you for real? How could you not love Star Wars? Han Solo is the best. I was in love with Harrison Ford from the moment I laid eyes on him. God, he's perfect."

Sams heart skipped a beat and he swallowed dryly, "Ye-yeah he's cool."

He now looked down at the new picture in his hand. Younger Gabriel and Castiel decorating a Christmas tree together. Gabriel was eating the popcorn off the thread that was supposed to decorate the tree. Castiel didn't seem to notice, and was attempting to wrap it around the tree anyway, as his cousin trailed behind him like a fish stuck on a line.

"You all right?" asked Gabriel.

"What?" Sam sputtered, "Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"You look like you're blushing."

"I'm not! It's just a bit warm in here, He said, swallowing, "Why are you always eating something in these pictures?"

"I like food, bite me." said Gabriel, "And don't change the subject on me, Gigantor, I know what you're doing. Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not!"  
"You are too. You have something against me liking Harrison Ford? Because if you're homophobic--"  
"No! No, I really don't! I like Harrison Ford too!"

Gabriel looked at him quizzically, "Like...as in...?"

"I used to have a crush on him too."

It felt so weird saying it aloud. Even weirder to say it to another person. Sam had never told anyone this secret before, and he almost wanted to take it back. But at the same time he was glad it was off his chest.

"Oh," said Gabriel, "really?"

"Yeah. My brother showed me Star Wars when I was six and I watched it before I went to bed every night for months. I didn't really know what a crush was back then of course...but I knew I liked Han Solo a lot. A lot, a lot. "

Gabriel laughed, "That's adorable."

Sam grinned, his heart still pounding and now his hands feeling sweaty. "I've never told anyone that before," he confessed, "it's weird."

"Really?" his eyebrows knitted together in amusement, "Why'd you tell me then?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't think anyone I know would really understand. I don't even understand. I just...trust you I guess. You're a good friend."

"Well, I'm touched, Sammich. I don't know about the 'good friend' business, but thanks. You're not so bad yourself."  
"Do you...um...do you...so you like boys? Right?"  
"Yeah. I'm pan."  
"Wait, what?"

Gabriel almost glared at him, "Pansexual, Sammy."

"What is that?"

"It means I'm attracted to any sex or gender," he looked at him with a raised eyebrow and thin frown, "Have you been living under a rock? It's 2015--"

"You can like more than one gender? That's a thing?"

Gabriel blinked, "You really never heard of that?"

"No! Ohmygod!" Sams heart was pounding so fast in his chest he thought it was going to burst through his chest, "I thought I was some kind of freak!"

"You are a freak, Sam," said Gabriel with a smile, "but you're not a freak for liking two genders. You're just bisexual. I can't believe you've never heard of that before."

Sams heart was racing in his chest, he had never been so excited in his life. Everything was making sense now. He wasn't alone in this. He wished he could kiss Gabriel.  
"I can't believe this either...Holy crap. I don't even--wow."

Gabriel started laughing, leaning on his hands and tossing his head back.

"Whats so funny?" Sam asked. Gabriel only replied in howls of laughter. "Hey, cut it out! Whats so funny?!"

"You're so cute when you're like this, you know?"

 _Don't tease me, Gabe_. He thought instantly, dipping his head back to the Christmas picture.

"You really didn't know..."  
He said it more as an observation than a question. When Sam looked back at him Gabriel was sitting back on his hands, looking at Sam with an astonished gleam in his eyes, and a soft look on his face. Almost sympathetic.

Sam shook his head slowly.

"I thought I was alone." he said.

"Why? I mean--how did you go so long without at least searching the web. That's how I figured it out."

Sam rolled his shoulder, "I never...I never talked about it. Not to the guys or the girls I've been with, my brother...I've never even thought to look it up on the computer...It was just...it was another thing to keep to myself."

He looked away from Gabriel again, sucking in a shaking breath. He looked at the scattered pictures around him and scooped them up. He stacked them into a neat pile to distract himself.

"When did you know?" said Gabriel.

Sam fiddled with the photographs in his hands, prodding his palm with the edges of it.

"Seventh grade," he said, "there was um, a really cool kid in my class. We were only around for a couple of months, but we became friends. I was pissed when my dad made us move again. He was my first crush in middle school. I didn't really understand what I was feeling, but I knew it was different because Dean never talks about guys. He only talks about girls. Which, eventually I found out I liked girls too which honestly didn't make me feel any better because I still liked guys. It's been difficult..."

Gabriel raised an imaginary glass, smirking faintly, "Amen to that."

"What about you?"

He sighed hard and dreamily out of his nose, dipping his head back towards his shoulder blades to gaze up at the cobweb invested ceiling.

"Her name was Kali. What a woman...She was crazy, but, dude, she was awesome." A goofy grin spread across his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I followed her around like a puppy dog since kindergarten, and she finally went out with me freshman year. She was a year older than me and upperclassmen would invite her to parties all the time and she'd bring me along. It was a really crazy part of my life I did things I never even thought about...it was fun though. Anyway, one time at a party we were playing spin the bottle and the rules were you had to kiss whoever it landed on even if its the same gender. Which, hey, I didn't have a problem with that. I'll try anything twice. I got boys more than I did girls and the more times I did it the more I liked it. Kali liked it too. She liked watching. So, that was when it started I guess. She moved away that summer, and we thought we loved each other...I think we kinda did, but now that I think about it we didn't really know what we were doing. After that I just kinda figured it out on my own. It just felt right."

They fell into a silence that was only filled by the natural creaks of the house and shutters.

Until Gabriel asked, "You okay, Samm-o?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, "Yeah, I'm just...do you know what time it is?"

Gabriel flashed his wrist at him, "Sorry, didn't get knocked out with a watch on me. Why?"

"Do you care if I head home right now? I can come back later."

"Oh, go ahead," Gabriel shooed him away with a bat of his hands, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam smiled at him, getting to his knees and setting the pictures back into the shoe box. "Same time tomorrow," he promised.

"Same time." echoed Gabriel.

Sam ran to his backpack sitting propped up lazily against the wall and slung it over his shoulder, flashing a warm-hearted grin at Gabriel over his shoulder. Gabriel was still sitting in the same spot. He was watching Sam the entire time.

"Hey, Gabe, um...thanks."

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow, but he was wearing the shit eating grin that told Sam he already knew what he was about to say. "For what, kiddo?"

He rolled his shoulder shyly, "Yaknow...just...everything."

"You're welcome," said Gabriel.

Sam walked to the door and twisted the handle.

"Sam,"

He turned on his heel, his heart drumming.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for uh...being here. Yaknow..." Gabriel looked awkwardly down at his tennis shoes, and raked the pads of his fingers across the floorboards.

"You're welcome, Gabriel. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, kid."

Sam ran home like his life depended on it. When he got there his lungs were on fire and he was wheezing so much his gut hurt, but it was worth it. No one was home just yet. He ran inside, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he toed off his shoes. He stumbled into the quiet house with his brain set on finding his fathers computer. He saw it sitting peacefully and cold on the coffee table. 

Sam plopped himself on the couch. His heart was still pounding, but it was from a new kind of excitement.

He looked up the word bisexual in the search engine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where have I been? College and work mostly. Heh, I'm no abandoning this story though! it's just hard to find time to write. Hope ya'll can forgive me #nervoussmile


	10. The Crater Lake Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "C'mon, Sammy, give me five good reasons why you shouldn't go to that party." 
> 
> Sam chewed on his bottom lip. The words: I could be spending it with you, were tickling the back of his throat. 
> 
> "Well?" Gabriel pressed. "Got anything, knucklehead?"

Jo was leaning against the locker next to Sams. She had been following him around all week now, trailing behind him after every class like Michael Myers stalked his sister in _Halloween_. The entire time she walked with him she'd bring up October 31st, and how lame it would be if he didn't come out to a party with her to raise Hell.  

"C'mon, Sam, please?" she asked again, her eyes growing even rounder and her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. 

"I invented that look, you know," he said. Sam didn't so much as give her a second glance as he shoved his books into his backpack. "That doesn't work on me." 

Jo's puppy-dog pout flipped into a frown. She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him. 

She was trying to drag him into going to some Halloween party down at the Greenwater lake. Apparently the "whole school" was going, but somehow it wouldn't be the same if Sam didn't attend also. It had been her sole mission in life to get him come, and had been pestering him the entire week. She was lucky Sam was so used to being around stubborn people thanks to growing up with Dean, otherwise he thinks he would have torn his hair out. 

"Why won't you come?" She asked. 

He shrugged, pulling on the straps of his backpack. "I don't know, Jo, it doesn't really seem like something I'd go to." 

"So what?" She pressed a hand against his locker and slammed it shut, "It won't be weird! I'll be there! Listen, you can invite whoever you want too. No one will care, it's gonna be fun, okay?" 

"Why do I have to invite anyone if _everyone's_ already gonna be there?" he smirked. 

"Okay, asshat, not _everybody_ is gonna be there, but it'll be just about! Trust me!" 

Sam rolled the idea around in his mind as they walked down the hallway together.  

"So, can I invite Castiel, Balthazar, and Meg?" 

"Sure, if they wanna come." 

"Okay." 

Jo's face split into a grin. "Does this mean you're coming?" 

"We'll see," he said, "I don't even know if I have a costume." 

"I'll help you look for one!" Said Jo. "I'm going as Harley Quinn. Wanna be my Joker?" 

Sam scrunched up his face, shaking his head, "Nah, I don't really like wearing all that cruddy Halloween make-up." 

"Why don't you go as Jason or something, I don't know, something easy." 

"Yeah, maybe." said Sam.  

They were approaching the doorway to his math class now, and the five minute warning bell was going off above their heads. 

"I'll think up some more ideas and text you," said Jo with a spin of her heel. 

"It's not for sure, Jo!" Sam tried to tell her, but she was already walking off to shop class in the other wing. He huffed, rolling his eyes before stepping into his classroom and throwing himself down on his desk. 

It had been a week since he looked up what bisexual was in Google. He found that Gabriel had been right about him; he was bi, and now that he had a word for it he didn't feel so wrong anymore. He hadn't told anyone else besides Gabriel. He wasn't sure if he would ever tell anyone besides Gabriel, but that was something to worry about later.  

He and Gabriel hadn't talked much about their sexuality since that day. Gabriel was much more comfortable making innuendos here and there, but that was really the only thing that changed between them. It was still nice to feel like he had someone to relate to, though. And to have someone who would understand if he ever needed to vent about his issues or stress. After knowing the guy for almost two months he really felt like he could talk to Gabriel about anything. Anything that didn't include the painfully growing crush on him.  

Somedays Sam wondered if he was being embarrassingly obvious and Gabriel has known for a while now. But other days Gabriel just seemed naïve, and he wondered if Gabriel would ever see him as anything more than a friend. 

Sam took out his math notebook when the final bell rang.  He copied down the notes his teacher wrote on the board, but he did it mindlessly and day dream-like. For in the corner of his paper he was doodling pictures of Jason Voorhees' hockey mask and grinning jack-o-lanterns. Swooping above the pumpkin he drew a ghost with waving arms and a big black O for a mouth. He smiled into his palm as he added tiny hearts around it. 

XxX 

Gabriel lept off his bed, landing on the floor soundlessly as he exclaimed, "You should totally go!" 

"Really?" Sam looked up from his phone that was still showing Jo's text about how he should be Tygra from Thundercats. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of Gabriel's bed with his math book sitting in his lap and his work laying open and unfinished next to his knee.  

"Yeah, man!" Said Gabriel. "Don't go as Tygra though, be He-Man! That'd be so _sick_!"  

Sam laughed at him, shaking his head.  It was moments like this one that would make him think that Gabe and him would be okay. That they would be good together, and love each other. Some part of himself said that they could find a way to make it work out okay, even after Gabriel woke up. This part of him told himself he was just being paranoid about the whole thing; about how Gabriel might not even remember any of this when he woke up.  

But then the other part of him worried about being right. 

"I don't know, Gabe..." Said Sam.  

"What, you got anything special planned for Halloween besides a date with old righty? C'mon, dude!" Gabriel grabbed ahold of the flaps of Sam's flannel, shaking him lightly. " _Live_ for me!" 

Sam pushed him off, still laughing. Gabriel sat back on his knees, looking at Sam with stars in his eyes. 

"C'mon, Sammy, give me five good reasons why you shouldn't go to that party." 

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. The words: _I could be spending it with you,_ were tickling the back of his throat. But he could never get them out past his tongue.  

" _Well_?" Gabriel pressed. "Got anything, knucklehead?" 

"How am I supposed to get a costume by Saturday anyway?" Said Sam. "It's already Thursday, and the stores will be all sold out by tomorrow!" 

"You'll think of something," said Gabriel, rapping his knuckles against Sam's head. "Use that big brain of yours." 

"Well...Wouldn't you miss me?" Sam forced a smirk, hoping to come off as teasing. Though in his heart he was hoping Gabriel would.   

But he just snorted, giving Sam a slight shove on his shoulder. 

"I spend my nights alone anyway! C'mon, Sam, live a little! Go ahead and go to the party. I _wish_ I could go. Please, go for me, Sammy, go for me!" 

"Alright, alright, jeez," said Sam, "I'll tell Jo I'm coming. Happy?" 

"Yes!" Gabriel tossed his hands up in the air for victory. "Make sure to drag my nerdy cousin along with you. Lord knows that kid needs to get out of the house." 

"Okay, I'll tell him." 

"Do me a favor and make sure he doesn't go as anything lame this year." Gabriel tacked on. "He always dresses up as Doctor Who or—or Isaac Newton, or Alexander Hamilton, or whoever. I dunno. I just know the names are unpronounceable, and he's always wearing a bowtie." 

"Will do," said Sam. "I could make him go as He-Man instead." 

They met each other's eyes, simultaneously picturing the same image in their heads of Cas dressing up as He-Man. A fur cloth, matching boots, and the plate across his chest being the articles of clothing on his body. Dark hair flowing behind him, as he raises the Power Sword. 

Sam and Gabriel fell onto their backs, holding their stomachs to keep their guts in place while they heaved with laughter. 

"I never want to picture that again!" Gabriel wheezed. "How could you _do_ that to me?"  

"I'm sorry," said Sam, wiping tears from his eyes, "I'm so sorry!" 

"Sweet, baby Jesus," Gabriel was pounding his fist to the floor, struggling to speak in between bubbles of laughter. "Make him go as anything but that! Anything! Even Alexander Hamilton I don't care!" 

Their laughter died down eventually, fading away like the colors of a sunset.  

Sam stared up at the cob-webbed ceiling. He watched a spider skuttle over the light fixture as he stretched his hand over his stomach. Gabriel flopped down next to him, their heads just inches away from touching.  

Sam swallowed, thinking about how they were almost mimicking the poster for _The Fault in our Stars._  

"You sure you'll be okay?" He asked the ceiling. 

Gabriel scoffed, his voice right next to Sam's ear. Though when he spoke Sam didn't feel any warmth of breath on his naked skin to turn his neck to gooseflesh. His heart sank painfully. For some reason this made Sam wonder about what Gabriel's hospital room looked like. He hoped there weren't any spiders there. 

"Quit acting like my girlfriend, okay," he said. "I've survived much worse than spending a holiday in my room." 

"Okay." 

Sam tapped a finger on his abdomen. He was still watching the spiders.   

Neither of them spoke for a while. Sam thought about turning to face Gabriel, pressing his nose against his cheek, digging his fingers through his wild hair. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Would it feel as hollow and absent as his breath? Or could there be a chance of warmth and sparks?  

He guessed he wouldn't ever know. 

They still hadn't spoken to each other in almost ten minutes. Sam half wanted to turn and check if Gabriel was okay. If he was even still next to him, or if he had gotten up and was waiting for Sam to turn so he could spook him.   

 He started to wonder if it would turn into a new record for Gabriel.  

He finally turned, seeing Gabriel flat on his back.  

He had been watching the spiders too. 

XXX 

 Saturday came sooner than Sam wished.  

Jo picked him up on Halloween at six thirty in her moms rusty station wagon. Her blonde hair was in pigtails held with black and red scrunchies. 

The stores had been all sold out of any cool kind of costume, just like he said they would be. All that was left was and adult XL Homer Simpson, and some green Power Ranger masks. So, when he came back home and stressed his frustration to his older brother, Dean came up with a perfect idea. He wrapped his little brother in white gaws and called him King Tut. 

Dean had him stand in front of the bathroom mirror. 

"What do you think?" He said. 

The only part of him not covered in white bandages was his eyes, and a few strands of hair that had refused to stay under the wrap with all the others.  

Dean was grinning toothily at him in the mirror. Sam pulled down the bandages that covered his mouth.  

"I look stupid," he said. 

"You always look stupid," Dean corrected, "this actually makes you look less stupid if you ask me. Got any better ideas?" 

Sam sighed. It was either extra large Homer Simpson, or this.  

"Jo's gonna laugh at me when she see's this." 

Dean patted his shoulder, laughing. 

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, she probably will." 

And she did.  

As he walked off the porch steps he could see her mouth forming "Oh. My. God." 

She was already in hysterics by the time he reached the passenger side door, her forehead pressed against the steering wheel, and her shoulders shaking with every heave.  

"Shut up," he bit as he plopped down in the bucket seat.  

Jo lifted up her head, eyes overflowing with tears as she shook her head. "I'm so glad I'm friends with you."  

"This is what you get when you try to buy a costume on the 30th of October, Jo." 

"I love it," she said, backing out of the driveway. "I really do. You're such a trip, Sam." 

"Let's just get this night over with." 

When Jo drove back down his street, he couldn't help but look past her and to the bedroom of Gabriels window. He was half hoping he would see him standing there, but Gabe was nowhere to be found. 

Sam felt anxiety start pick at his stomach, but he rubbed it away by telling himself that he had nothing to worry about. Gabriel wanted him to have fun tonight. So, that's what he’ll do. 

Jo pulled down a dirt road to a gravel parking lot filled with the cars Sam saw every weekday sitting in the school parking lot. He was happy to see Cas's Lincoln sitting silently among these cars. 

Sam had brought his notebook, along with one of the Stephen King novels, just in case he got bored of the party he'd at least have something to do. Whether it was doodle or write or read. At least he wouldn't be bored. But Jo made him leave them in the car.

When they arrived it seemed like the party had already been going for some time. Their classmates were dripping in fake blood and cheap white makeup, sipping out of red solo cups on the hoods of their cars with their significant others hanging on their arms, or singing along with the car radio like sirens on rocks. 

Jo led him away from the lot and down the pathway through the woods and towards the lake. As they walked farther the more voices Sam heard, and the louder they became. 

They came out to the clearing; which was a grassy area covered with blankets and litter, stretching towards the beach. 

Frankenstein's monster, Freddy Krueger, Chucky, Carl Grimes, and a giant slice of pizza were among the people attending this party. Unforuntly, Sam also saw that Gordon, dressed up in a lazy vampire costume, was here too. He was leaning against a tree with a cup in his hand, talking sweetly to a girl in a Queen of Hearts costume. 

Sam felt his chest shrink up. He grabbed Jo by her elbow, dragging her back. He knew he wouldn't get her to leave, but maybe she'd let him sit in the car. 

"Hey!" She snapped. "I haven't even had a drink yet!" 

"Gordon's here," said Sam.  

Jo wiggled out of his grasp, frowning as she said, "So what? You're going to let stupid Gordon ruin your night? He hasn't even done anything to you." 

   "Yet," Sam hissed. 

"Don't let him spoil this for you," said Jo, "you've got friends here, Sam. Gordon isn't going to mess with you in front of all these people, they'd kick his ass. _I'll_ kick his ass." 

Sam just toed at the dirt, looking back at Gordon over Jo's shoulder. 

"You'll be fine," she said, softly now. "Just avoid him." 

"I avoid him on a daily basis," said Sam. "He still finds me." 

Jo just shook her head. "I'm getting a drink. Want anything?" 

"No," he said, "I'll just try to find Cas and the others." 

She popped him a thumbs up and a smile. Then, with a spin of her blonde pigtails, she was off towards the cluster of people surrounding a keg.  

Sam turned the other way. He didn't really want to find Cas. He just wanted to dig his notebook from out of Jo's car and find a quiet place to sit. 

He should have ever listened to Gabriel; he could be sitting in Gabe's bedroom right now with his laptop playing his favorite movies to show to Gabriel. He knew it was dumb, but so was this party. 

But just as he started walking back up the pathway he ran straight into some tipsy teenager, making them knock their beer all over the front of him. 

"Oh, jeez," he muttered, looking down at himself. "Sorry, dude, I didn't--" 

But then he looked up and saw that it was only Balthazar in a Joker costume. His blond hair was in Castiel's usual bed-headed fashion, and his face looked like someone had thrown a water balloon full of clown make up at him. He wore an old tux with a pair of ripped up jeans. The tux had fake blood around the collar. 

"Sam!" He exclaimed. "We were jus' comin' to look for ya!" 

"Well, you found me." 

Coming up behind Balthazar was Cas and Meg. Cas was wearing old square glasses, and an old brown tweed blazer over his jeans. A red bow tie was on his neck, and his messy hair was combed back for once. Meg was wearing an open flannel shirt over a dirty 80's metal band t-shirt, and her hair was back in a ponytail. 

Meg smirked, looking Sam up at down. 

"I gotta say, I'm loving the toilet paper look on you." 

"Be nice, Meg," said Cas. 

She rolled her eyes, still holding onto her smile. 

"So um.. Cas," said Sam, "who're you supposed to be." 

Balthazar tossed his hands in the air, nearly pouring his booze on top of Meg's head. She flashed him an evil look that he didn't seem to catch.  

"I told him!" He said, "I told him to pick someone else, but he doesn't ever listen to me!" 

"Who is he?" 

"Atticus Finch," Cas said proudly, "from _To Kill a Mockingbird._ " 

"Oh," said Sam, thinking about what Gabriel's reaction will be like when he tells him that Cas dressed up as another guy in a bowtie. "At least it's original." 

"Thank you, Sam." 

"And what about you, Meg?" 

"Aileen Wuornos." 

"The—uh—serial killer?" 

Meg clicked her tongue in her mouth, shooting at Sam with finger guns. "You got it, kid." 

"You guys sure are, uh--creative," said Sam. 

"Enough small talk!" Balthazar announced. He clasped a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder, pointing back towards the keg in the corner with his other hand, nearly tipping the remainder of his booze on top of Sam's head.  

"Who's ready to drink their problems away?" 

Meg raised her hand in the air, "I was ready yesterday." 

Cas rolled his eyes, shaking his head playfully at them as they headed towards the keg. 

"Having fun so far?" Sam asked him. 

"Oh, yes," said Cas, "about as much fun as a designated driver can have." 

He then flashed Sam a smile when he realized he hadn't laughed. 

"I'm kidding," he tacked on, "I don't really drink anyway. I can't really enjoy drinking when I have Meg and Balthazar to worry about." 

"He's like our den mother," Meg chimed. She was trotting back up to them with a cup in her hand. Balthazar was still at the keg, balancing two cups in his hands while the nozzle filled them up.  

"Thanks for inviting us, Sam," added Cas. 

"Well, I couldn't suffer alone," said Sam.  

Meg smiled behind the mouth of her red solo cup. 

"I love when you associate me with suffering, Sammy." 

 Sam heard Jo's voice, and looked over to see her standing there beside the keg with a familiar group of friends he usually saw her with. He looked over at just the right time to see the girls look over their shoulders, exploding into a fit of giggles when they noticed he had seen them. Jo just rolled her eyes at them. 

Over the laughter Sam heard her tell them, "Oh, stop, he's just my friend!" 

" _Suuree_ ," one of them slurred.  

Sam felt himself blushing, so he turned away from the group to pretend that Cas and Meg had something far more interesting to say. But they were just talking about all the times Meg made an underclassman cry. So Sam couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping. 

"Have you seen his older brother though?" One of the girls asked. 

" _Oooh,_ you mean _Dean_?" Another one cooed. 

"He works at your mom's place, doesn't he, Jo?" 

"Yeah, he does," said Jo. 

"I've seen him," said one, "he works in the back, but I've seen him." 

"What's he like? I bet he's the quiet type like Sam." 

"Oh, he's _nothing_ like Sam," said Jo, and Sam could hear the jingle of her jewelry as she shook her head. "He's really sweet, though. He sings while he cooks too." 

"Goin' after the older brother, huh, Jo-Jo?" A girl teased, making them all giggle again, including Jo this time.  

"I don't know..." She muttered. "Maybe." 

Sam wished he had stopped listening ahead of time. It felt uncomfortable listening to Jo; one of his closest friends, and least fangirl-ish person he knew, talk about Dean like he was a celebrity. He half wished he could see their reactions if they ever saw him sitting on the living room couch in his boxers, watching Spanish soap operas, and picking his nose. 

Then again, he thought horribly, they might think that's endearing.  

 _Girls are weird._  

Balthazar made it back to them, and he shoved his second drink into Sams wrapped up hands. Sam was happy to drink it, wanting to quickly forget everything he just heard.  

He swallowed the beer, ignoring the burn in the back of his throat. 

He's only drank twice before in his lifetime. The first time was when he was fourteen, and Dean swipped two cans from their dad on Thanksgiving. They sat on a motel bed to watch the football game, and ate mini corndogs until they thought they'd get sick. The second time was just the year before; while they were in Nevada Sam went to a party a lot like this one. There was a pretty girl there that kept meeting his eyes across the room, but he couldn't seem to get up the nerve to say two words to her. For some reason he thought that drinking would solve this. It only made him throw up in one of her mother's vases.  

He didn't consider himself to be a drinker, but he knew the Winchester genes were bubbling inside him. They were just waiting for him to lose control of himself. 

He could still hear the girls giggling, and even though they were currently whispering quieter now, he couldn't help but think about what they were saying about him and Dean. What did Jo mean when she said "he's _nothing_ like Sam." Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing? What was so great about Dean? What was so bad about Sam? He was sweet too. Wasn't he? 

He brought the cup down. He wished Gabriel could have been here with him. He probably would have pulled a million and ten jokes right out of his sleeve to make Sam feel better while simultaneously making fun of everyone at this party.  

Sam stared at the bottom of his cup like it would tell him everything he wanted to hear. 

 _"You can leave anytime you want."_  

 _"Go see Gabriel."_  

 _"You don't have to be here."_  

But he felt like he couldn't leave now, not when Cas was here too. 

"Are you okay, Sam?" Cas asked. 

Sam opened his mouth, wanting to tell him that he didn’t feel very well, but he didn't even have time to even think about telling the truth or not. 

A hand was shoved into the middle of his back, making Sam stumble, and spill the remainder of his drink all over his front.  

He spun around in the dirt, already knowing who to expect. 

Gordon stood there, a guilty, yet fake-apologetic expression painted on his face. 

"Sorry, Winchester," he said, "didn't see you there." 

"We weren't bothering you," Meg snapped. "Why do you always have to start shit?" 

"Correction," said Azazel. Sam saw that he had dressed as a classic zombie, and it even looked a little more realistic thanks to the yellow in his eyes. "You're always bothering us by existing." 

Balthazar and Cas seized Meg back her arms to keep her from ripping Azazel's hair out. She sputtered out curses at her friends, begging them to let her go before they touched Sam again. 

"I'll just leave then," said Sam, happy to have a good excuse. "I don't want to deal with you tonight." 

"Gotta run off to ghost hunt, Sammy?" Gordon cooed, his posse snickering behind him. 

"Yeah," chimed Azazel, "it's Halloween after all, shouldn't you be with your ghost friend back at that old house?" 

Sam frowned. He wondered what they were trying to get at. He knew they were just trying to push buttons to get more out of him, but where they just speaking out of their ass? 

"Are you too drunk to come up with anything more clever than that?" Said Sam. "I've heard you say better material before." 

He turned on his heel, already planning on asking Cas to take him home, and thinking about the message he'd send to Jo later. He'd explain to her that it was nice of her to try and include him, but this just wasn't his scene. It wasn't his place. Then he'd probably tease her about her crush on Dean, just so she'd know everything was okay between them. 

But before Sam could grab Castiel, Gordon grabbed him. He spun him back around by clutching his forearm and twisting it. His fingernails tore at the wrapping, pinching against Sam's flesh. Sam grinded his molars, turning back to Gordon with a fire growing in his belly. 

"I'm not done talking yet, King Tut," said Gordon, "I've got some questions to ask." 

Sam jerked his arm out of Gordons grasp, sneering, "Oh, yeah, and what's that?" 

The smile on Gordon's face turned sinister, and the fake blood oozing out of the corner of his lips almost had Sam hold his hands against his throat, in fear that Gordon would suddenly sprout fangs. 

"What's up in that house, Sammy?" 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows.  

"What house." 

"Don't play dumb with me," he hissed, "the old Shurley house." 

When Sam didn't respond, Gordon held out his arms like a circus ringmaster, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear. 

"Sam, would you like to tell the class why you go into that old house up on Rosa Avenue everyday?" 

"I don’t know what you mean." 

"I've seen you," said Gordon hardly. "Other people have too; walkin' out the front gate and cutting across lawns to get to your house. What's up with that?" 

Behind him, Sam heard Cas say softly, almost disappointed, "Sam?" 

"It's not—that's not true!" 

Gordon threw his head back and laughed.  

"That's a load of bull," Azazel spat. 

"Tell us what's up there that keeps makin' you go back," added Gordon. Then his smile flipped as he said, "His body still up there?" 

There seemed to be a silent, yet collective gasp as everyone at the party turned to stare at Gordon and Sam.  The tipsy giggles and slurred whispers had come to a halt. There wasn't even a toad to croak out of turn.  

"Is it all wrinkled up, Winchester?" Gordon continued. His face was holding that grim frown, and his eyes had turned dark. "I bet he's all gray, and the rats have started eating him." 

"You're sick," said Sam. Acid was tickling the back of his throat at the visual of Gabriel, dead, and alone in his bedroom. 

"I'm askin' you a question," said Gordon. "What's he look like?" 

Sam just swallowed, clenching his fists at his sides. "I don't know who you're talking about." 

"Gabriel," and for some reason that name suddenly sounded like glass, and Gordon was breaking it with his teeth. "What does Gabriel look like up there?" 

"I don't know." 

"Are you a necrophiliac, Sammy?" 

Sam felt something pop. Whether it was a bone in his knuckles, or a tooth breaking off in his mouth, he didn't know. All he knew is that he wanted to punch the snot out of Gordon Walker. 

"Is that why you keep going back up there?" He said. "You boning some dead kids bones?" 

Sam didn't have to hit Gordon. Cas did it before he even had the chance. 

Nobody saw him coming, except for maybe Balthazar and Meg. Cas shoved Sam to the ground, then he clocked Gordon right in the nose, sending him back into Azazel's arms.  

Blood gushed out of Gordons nose and between the cracks of his fingers as he cupped his hand against it. Finally, it seemed like that had shut him up. His eyes were round and watering, but he was too busy gawking at his attacker to care how tough he looked right then. All anyone could do was stare at Cas; who now looked like a ruffled rooster. His slick hair had come undone, and his fake round glasses were askew.  

Without another word, Cas straightened himself out.  

Sam wanted to reach out for him, half expecting Cas to help him back on his feet, but Cas didn't so much as look in his general direction. He started to head back towards the parking lot with Meg and Balthazar in tow.  

When they disappeared behind the bushes and trees, people began murmuring again. Jo fell on her knees next to Sam, looking him over like he had been the one Cas had punched.  

"You okay?" 

"Yeah." 

He got up, not even bothering to dust off his hands on the costume. He knew this night was bound to be a disaster from the very beginning.  

Jo trailed after him like a puppy as he walked back up the path towards the lot. The Lincoln was long gone by then. Sam's heart sank a little when he saw the empty space, half of him had hoped that Cas would have waited for him. That they would have been able to talk it out and set everything straight before this night was over. Halloween was far from over, and Cas didn't want anything to do with him. 

"You okay to drive?" Sam asked numbly. 

"I'm a Harvelle," she replied, "of course I'm fine." 

Sam settled back in the passenger seat in Mrs. Harvelles station wagon. Jo sat in the driver's seat, fidgeting with the radio. They had spent an hour at the lake, max, but to Sam it felt like it had been an eternity.  

"Gordon's a prick," she said.  

"Yeah," said Sam. 

"Where does he come up with that kinda stuff? Yaknow, I bet he's got something psychologically wrong with him or something. He was just doing it for the reaction though, he just wanted to get something out of you."  

"Yeah, I know." 

Jo pulled out of the lot and back down the dirt road that took them there. The night was dark and cold, making Sam want to shrink away in his wraps and fall asleep. The hovering branches of the trees, and the full moon hanging above them just made him feel small. 

He pressed his forehead against the cold glass window. 

"So..." Jo began. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, already predicting her next words. 

"Do you...really go up in that house everyday? I mean—I don't believe Gordon for a second, but, like, do you?" 

Sam refused to open his eyes. 

"No," he said.  

Jo didn't speak the rest of the ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ya'll!! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, I hope there's still some people around willing to read this haha. So, here's my explanation for my absence: I'm a creative writing major. I was constantly writing short stories for school while also writing a novel (not for school), and writing this fic, along with a few other fics that haven't even made it to ao3 yet. Don't get me wrong I LOVE writing! (I mean, it's pretty much my life) It was just so hard for me to balance school, work, writing, and fanfic that I had to put some things on hold for a while. Fanfiction was the easiest thing that I could put on the back burner. I am planning on continuing this, the updates won't always be frequent, but since it's summer I'm hoping I'll have some time to work on this. I hope you all understand, and I hope you all don't hate me too much. If you want you can follow me on tumblr too and ask me all kinds of questions about this fic!! I'd be very happy to answer them! Find me @ shes-my-chevy-pie :) Hope this chapter was worth the long wait...


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